Bringing the Light
by Solitarium
Summary: You have cast a shadow over the whole of Azeroth. You have wrought so much suffering on the people of the world it sickens me to even utter your name and so I intend to erase you. Lich King, defend yourself! -The Light Bringer
1. Prologue

Prologue

A winter wonderland enveloped Tirisfal Glade. The long winter of cold and snow had only just begun. Already the peacebloom and life root had frozen and withered, giving way for a thick blanket of glistening white snow. The fog no longer shrouded the sights to see, rather it added to the seclusion of the woods. Unable to see the edge of the trees, Arkerya fell backwards into the snow, staring up at the bare tree limbs through the fog and snow.

The sun was just starting to rise, though it would not be seen that day through the cloudy skies. Arkerya preferred it that way. With the sun hidden, the snow would last longer and the setting of winter would be more magical. To a little girl like Arkerya, winter was always the best time of year.

In the distance, Arkerya heard what she had been dreading since she purposely woke up early to play in the snowy woods. "Arkerya, he has arrived," her mother called. Arkerya hung her head, annoyed that she had to cut her play short to go and meet Uther the Light Bringer, who would be visiting her village today.

_Why he'd come to a backwater little hillside bunch of hovels like this is beyond me. Why do I have to meet the stupid light bringer anyway. Maybe he's recruiting for his Silver Hand. What? Does he want to recruit me? Yeah right._ "Arkerya!" came a louder voice than before.

"Coming Mom," Arkerya shouted back. _Curses._ Arkerya started walking back south to the hill where she lived. As she approached the edge of the woods and was able to see and hear her village again, the commotion quickly came into view.

In the village square, there was a large gathering of people. Little Arkerya couldn't see who was in the middle through the thick crowd of villagers. Whole heartedly uninterested, she turned and started back to the woods, only to be thwarted by her father who scooped her up into his arms.

"And where are you going little one? If you run off you won't get to meet the Light Bringer. He doesn't come around these parts often you know," said Arkerya's father. "I don't want to meet him! I just want to play in the woods!" Arkerya said loudly.

All at once, a hundred eyes turned to her. Some seemed surprised, some seemed indignant and others still seemed fearful. To the little redhead, all the eyes in the world must have been upon her to make her feel the way she did.

_And what are you all looking at? He's just a person right? It isn't like not meeting some little boondocks village kid is going to ruin his day or anything. _It was then that Arkerya noticed her father looking at her the same way. His eyes, and only his eyes, could scare Arkerya. Arkerya hung her head, frustrated that she had to be bothered with Uther.

Then, from the middle of the crowd, there came a tall figure of perfect build. The man was adorned in gorgeous silver armor with trim and decoration befitting royalty. Behind the bushy eyebrows and large, slightly red mustache, there were piercing, yet gentle, green eyes.

He strode gently toward Arkerya and stopped in front of her. Her father put her on the ground and stepped back. Arkerya looked back at him and then up at the imposing man. Uther neither smiled nor frowned. He just stood there, staring at Arkerya.

_What did I do? Did I make him mad? _Arkerya's spirits sank very quickly at the thought of offending Uther the Light Bringer. Her annoyance quickly turned to fear as the imposing man continued to stare.

To Arkerya's disbelief, Uther cocked his head to the side and smiled widely before dropping to his knee in front of her.

"And what is your name little one?" Uther asked kindly. Arkerya blinked and stepped back. "It's alright. I would just like to know your name," Uther pressed.

"I'm Arkerya sir," she said meekly. Uther smiled widely and reached into a pouch on his belt. "I have something for you here, Arkerya." He pulled from his pouch a tiny figurine of gold. The small statue had wide wings and a blindfold over its eyes. "What is it?" Arkerya asked.

"It's a good luck charm. I was going to use it myself to bring good fortune, but I'd like you to have it," he said cheerfully. He held it out to Arkerya who took it respectfully.

"How does it work?" she asked. "You burry it the ground outside your home and it will bring you luck one day," he replied.

"When?" Arkerya asked. "It's hard to be sure. It could happen tomorrow or in many years. But the think about luck is that you will never truly know. But if you keep faith in it, I'm sure it will be invaluable to you one day," Uther replied.

"Thanks," Arkerya smiled genuinely. "You're very welcome. Go on now. Go plant it in a good spot," Uther urged her.

Arkerya nodded and ran toward her house away from the crowd. She ran around the back of her house and stopped at a tree outside the back door. _This looks like as good a place as any._ She hastily dug a ways into the ground and then buried the figurine.

_Well, nothing do now except wait for it to give me good luck._


	2. Chapter1: A Coming Storm

"Good morning Hampton." Said Arkerya. "The usual roles and corn bread with Dwarven Mild I presume?" "Aye lassie." Said the dwarf pulling out his coin pouch. "And how is the family?" This is the small talk Hampton always made. Of course nothing had changed from yesterday or the day before; they were a family of bakers, the most uneventful and repetitive life one could ask for. But remembering her manners Arkerya politely repeated from yesterday and the day before, "Fine." "That's good to hear lassie." Said Hampton as he took a bite of his fresh role. "Hmm. Tastes different today Ark." He exclaimed matter-of-factly. "It is still the best pastry in town." You and your father are the finest bakers in Tirisfal." Arkerya was a little taken aback by this. Her role tasted strange? That doesn't sound right at all. She hadn't done anything different or used any different ingredients. She hadn't over or under cooked it and she definitely didn't use stale grain. It was just delivered early that morning from Andorhal as usual. Never-the-less, Arkerya was a perfectionist to be sure and there would be no second class pastries on her watch! "I shall make you a fresh batch then Hampton. I'll not have my best customer disappointed..." "No, no lassie." Hampton interrupted, "I must be going. The bread tastes only a little different and, as I said, it's delicious. Sorry to eat and run, but I have my fields to tend. They don't plow themselves you know." He paid his 20 silver coins and headed toward his farm to the north.

It was nearing 11:00 already. A baker doesn't see much business in the afternoon, so Arkerya started to close up shop. Her brother Drew came into the kitchen to help. He had short blonde hair and a strong chest for a child. He was only tall enough to reach on top of the kitchen counter and had a freckled face. And, as usual, he was on a mission to get out of the house and do something exciting. "So what are we going to do today Arkerya?" Asked the little boy hopefully as he began putting out the oven fires. "Drew I'm not in the mood for an adventure today." said Arkerya lazily. "You're never in the mood for an adventure!" cried Drew. "And you always just want to work on some dumb old sewing project. You're so boring!"

"Oh stop it!" said Arkerya reproachfully. "I am not boring and my projects are not dumb! Don't tell me you hate your new quilt that I finished the other day." "Well..." said Drew "no, but you are definitely boring! I mean you sit on the rocking chair outside and put a needle in and out of some fabric all day, unless its morning and you're baking. You're a walking, talking, sewing, baking cliché!" Arkerya smiled and shook her head at her smart little brother. He was usually right about these things. Accepting defeat, she said "Ok, you win. How about we go play on the beach today?" "Alright! We haven't been to the beach in a long time." "Well then hurry up and finish before I change my mind." Arkerya playfully mused.  
Drew and Arkerya continued cleaning the ovens and dough splatter everywhere when their mother came into the kitchen. She was a pretty woman of average height with short red hair like Arkerya's and a freckled face like Drew's. She was also 8 months pregnant and in a delicate condition but, as was their family tradition, she never faltered and always stood proud and strong. "Cleaning up already?" She asked. "The rolls don't make and sell themselves you know." "Oh mother..." retorted Arkerya, "...you sound exactly like Hampton." She tensed her face, squatted low and did her best impression of Hampton, "My fields don't plow themselves you know!" Drew laughed. Arkerya's mother gave her a stern look and wagged her finger. "Arkerya! Be kind. He's a sweet old dwarf and he works hard every day to provide vegetables for our table. In fact, I'd dare say, you could learn a thing or two from him about a hard day's work." Arkerya smiled and shook her head again. "I know, I know." she cooed and turned back to her cleaning.

Arkerya's father walked in the front door having finished his daily routine in the stables after he made his deliveries to the mill and the capitol city Lordaeron. He was a tall, burly, blonde man in his middle age. He had a moustache and a gruff, but kind look about him. He was strong as an ox, but only about twice as smart. Their mother was always the brains of the operation. He removed his coat and walked into the kitchen to see his family. "Quitting a little early today are we?" He asked. "Yeah! We're going to the beach. You wanna come too, dad?" Drew replied. "No, no, I have chores to do around the house." He glanced at their mother suggestively who returned another stern look. "Ovens clean?" He asked quickly. "Spotless!" Drew said just as quickly. "Did you wash the dishes?" "Washed and in the proper spot in the cupboard." Sweep the ashes out of the grates?" "Done, done and done!" Their father finally let up. "Okay you can go then." Drew grabbed a few wedges of cheese, two apples, some bread and two cinnamon rolls from the pantry and untidily put them on a basket before taking Arkerya by the hand and practically dragging her out the front door.

It was a pretty day outside. There were no clouds in the sky except for what looked like a storm to the south, but it was far away. The breeze was gently blowing from the ocean and the summer air was crisp and fresh. As the two of them made their way to the west through the woods and then the grassy fields, they playfully chased each other around and laughed. It was these simple games that kept Drew and Arkerya close. Both of them loved the beach, even though Arkerya was usually too lazy to get out of the house or had a more adventurous plan on her mind. She was the one who had the idea to explore a cave to the north of Hampton's mill two winters ago. They ended up waking a bear from hibernation and Hampton had to fight it off with his hunting bow. The bears pelt now is mounted on the farmers wall and proudly so. Hampton was not at all unhappy about the little misadventure and was pleased to add another trophy to his collection. Drew, however, never returned to northern Tirisfal despite Arkerya's plea's to explore the rest of the cave in the summer time.  
After a half hours frolic across the plain they reached the beach. Drew immediately tore off his shirt and dove straight into the ocean. Arkerya set down the food and lied back in the surf and soaked in the sun. "Arkerya! Arkerya! Look what I've caught!" Drew said excitedly as he held up a small young murlock in his hand. "Very nice Drew. But you know that the mother murlock won't take kindly to you handling her young like that. Best to let it go you bully!" Arkerya replied over a wave as it crashed into the shore. "But..." Drew started but he was interrupted by Arkerya who quickly said in a mocking stern voice: "Put it back." Drew sighed and released the young fish creature back into the sea. Arkerya lied back again in the surf only to receive a large mouth full of salt water. Her mischievous little brother was obviously in the mood for a friendly splash fight. "You're dead!" She exclaimed playfully. "Bring it on." Drew replied with a ready look about him. The two of them wrestled around in the water until they could barely stand. "I so got you good. You should have seen the look on your face when I got you that first time!" Drew laughed. "No way boy! You were defenseless against me. Say it! Say I win and maybe I'll go easy on you the next time." Arkerya retorted, not to be outdone. The banter continued as they ate the food Drew had packed that morning. After the meal Arkerya noticed the clouds that were far away before were much closer. "Looks like a storm little brother. We should head home soon before we get rained out." she said. Drew nodded in disappointment and grabbed the empty basket and the two of them headed back to the village.

The air was growing colder as the thunderstorm approached and the wind was picking up. The two of them hurried back across the field and through the woods back to the hillside settlement. They entered their house and closed the door just in time to escape a loud thunder clap. "Fun day except for the storm. Thanks for coming with me Arkerya." Drew said happily. "It was my pleasure little brother. Thanks for dragging me out of the house." Arkerya said beaming at her brother. The thunder and lightning continued, but no rain came as the two sat in their dimly lit living room. The cloud cover was extremely dense and the air was getting thicker with the racing wind. Suddenly, there was shouting outside. Arkerya got out of her chair and looked out the window to see what was going on. What she saw would change the course of her life forever. Absolutely nothing could have prepared her for what was staring back at her through the window. Startled, she moved as far from the window as possible grabbing Drew by the shoulder on the way.  
The window shattered and a raspy voice yelled "Death is here! Death is the only way. Death is your release from your mortal bonds! Welcome death feeble mortals!" _What the hell…_ Arkerya thought, _is that? _She soon saw what the hell it was, but she was compelled not to believe it. It was a man, sort of. His bones were showing at his waistline, his bottom jaw was missing, he had only his left arm, he was blind and what was left of his skin looked and smelled of rot and decomposition. He was an undead zombie! A fear quite unlike anything she had experienced as a baker gripped Arkerya as the creature hobbled at what must have been a run at Arkerya and her brother, but fear, disgust and horror stayed her feet. The zombie was half way across the living area, drooling serrated blood from his throat. It swung its fist at Arkerya, hitting her in her left temple. Dazed, she fell to the floor. It then tackled Drew and proceeded to claw away the flesh on his stomach.

Drew was sprawled out on the kitchen floor wailing in excruciating pain and anguish as the creature chewed at his mid-section. And then there was a second crash and the creatures body flew against the wall and went limp. Arkerya came to and her father had swung the fire poker into the head of the creature. "Father! Help Drew!" she wailed in horror. Her father turned quickly to Drew and ran to his side. He kneeled down and took his son in his arms. Drew lay motionless. Arkerya came in close and bent over Drew's motionless body and the two of them fell silent. Arkerya's father closed his eyes and shed a silent tear. He was dead. The brother Arkerya had just spent the day with was dead. Arkerya was speechless and horrified. Arkerya's father, being an ex soldier, put a hard look on his face and rose to his feet. "Come. We must get to the Lordaeron citadel." He uttered gravely. Arkerya couldn't move. In the course of about forty-five seconds her home had been invaded, her brother had been murdered and now... the monster was moving again! It crawled and struggled to get at Arkerya now and she finally came to her senses and ran across the kitchen to her father, looking back at her poor brother. He grabbed her and led her through the living room and out the back door into the village square to meet her terrified mother. And it was then that Arkerya and her family fully realized just how dire their situation was. Dozens of abominations of death were marauding her quiet hillside village and killing everything in sight. The town guard was fighting the undead all over the place, but the scores of zombies were too many and the guard was overwhelmed. Villagers all over were bleeding and dying and being torn limb from limb. But they didn't stay dead. The villagers who had been killed were now moving again, and they were not the friendly people Arkerya had known. They had become the vile creatures that had killed them. Arkerya thought of her brother and almost threw up but didn't dare to look back for him. Her father was a middle aged man and had seen his share of fighting in the past. But that was years ago and he hadn't touched a sword since, not to mention the number of undead was growing by the second. And to complicate matters, her mother was pregnant. If it was a hopeless fight for the guard, then it was surely a hopeless fight for a family of bakers, and it didn't take long to sink in what they must do. "We must take refuge in Lordaeron." Arkerya and her family quickly ran behind dozens of other fleeing villagers for the stone archway outside the village. The undead tailed them closely, shouting about death and the coming of the "Scourge". After what seemed like miles and miles of running as fast as they could and still nowhere near Lordaeron, a glimmer of hope issued from the east. Riders bearing the crest of Lordaeron charged the mob. The knights tore past the refugees, weaving in and out of the terrified villagers, and cut through the zombies with their long lances, sending the undead in different directions. And when the mob was nothing more than squirming body parts, the knight-captain bellowed: "Run for the citadel!" We will hold off any other pursuers." Arkerya and her family traveled through Tirisfal Glade for another 4 hours and finally reached the great gates of Lordaeron.

The portcullis rose and the tired villagers moved through. Lordaeron guards directed traffic into the town center where volunteers were handing out food and drink to the weary refugees. The town centre was renown throughout the world for its beauty and craftsmanship. The streets were paved with finely carved stone blocks and the grass was green and healthy. The flowers along the walls were in full bloom, giving a serene sort of mood to the place. The fountain shot water high into the air which fell gently back into the bowls beneath it by some arcane charm. But its true magnificence was veiled by the many people who had lost their homes and loved ones to this strange and vulgar new foe which tore Tirisfal asunder. In fact, there were hundreds, maybe thousands of them. Arkerya had never seen such a gathering of people before. Whatever happened in her village must have happened all over Tirisfal as well.

Arkerya and her family moved through the crowd to the fountain in the center of the city and rested at last. At least, they tried to rest. But the thought of drew and his awful fate mortified them. They wept together. None of them spoke for a long time, but just sat in the thick and cloudy air, silently crying and wishing it was only a terrible nightmare, that Drew was fast asleep in his bed and they would wake up in the morning to make their pastries for their usual customers. Arkerya actually longed for Hampton's idle chatter, the same chatter that annoyed her every morning at about 10:30. But a loud noise brought them all back to reality. Just then the gates crashed open and some of the riders who saved Arkerya quickly halted at the entrance. There were only about 8 of what must have been at least 50 men. They rode to the stables and dismounted and then disappeared into the keep. For a long time the grief did not allow any of them to move about and try to find familiar faces. It was only when an important looking man appeared on the balcony above the centre did Arkerya look up. The man spoke, "People of Tirisfal, I bring news from the front lines. It seems our enemy has moved throughout Tirisfal from the southeast and has advanced all the way to Brill. All that remains is the monastery to the north and this city." A Murmur of panic and dread issued from the crowd. "But fear not my people. Help will come and Lordaeron will survive. We must hold true to the light and keep our faith in the alliance. As we speak, forces march north from Stormwind and Ironforge to eradicate the undead. We will pull through. We will survive. Even now in these trying times I hear word of Prince Arthas returning from Northrend. He and his forces combined with our own will take back our land and have vengeance for the death and destruction we have endured today. And for the time being, fear not. Within these walls a few men can stand against an army for days and there is an army inside them now. The good people of Lordaeron and our soldiers will now set up temporary housing for all Refugees where we can. All I ask of you to is stay calm and stay here. Outside these walls there is no safety." And the man disappeared back into the keep.

The name Arthas seemed to bring a new fervor to the people and the guards. Prince Arthas was a Paladin in the Order of the Silver Hand. If he was returning, then the entire order of holy fighters would soon be at the gates. Arkhel "The Glorious", Balladore "The Bright", Sage "Truth Bearer", and their leader Uther "The Light Bringer" would all soon come to the aid of Tirisfal with hundreds of paladins at their side. It seemed that salvation was at hand and the human race would prevail. But there was little rejoicing on the streets of Lordaeron. So many loved ones had perished that day and so many more were left homeless and alone. Drew's death was almost too much for Arkerya. She and her family hardly talked for the next two days and Arkerya didn't eat for three. A full week passed with no word from Stormwind, Ironforge, Arthas or the Silver Hand. And to add to the anticipation, there was a haze and a quiet outside Lordaeron. It wasn't like the usual silence and tranquility of the forest, but rather a deathly quiet, one which was the work of something unholy and sick. But no undead appeared before Lordaeron. Every now and then a voice would be heard in the keep shouting about battle tactics or what to do next, but the refugees had nothing to do but wait.  
And after 8 days of waiting, Arkerya and her parents were waiting in line in the courtyard for their rations when the bells atop the Cathedral began to ring. Cheers bellowed from all over the city as the portcullis opened for the first time in days and Prince Arthas appeared out of the mist and crossed the bridge into Lordaeron. "He's here! We're saved. There is hope!" Said Arkerya's mother. "The prince is back and the dead will rest. And we can go home." The city was in an uproar. People all around the walkway to the keep threw rose petals onto Arthas and the two guards at his flanks. The excitement and rejoicing was so loud and the thought of victory was so intense that nobody noticed that Arthas was alone. Not a single other being crossed the gates with Arthas and the sun seemed to fade. But it didn't matter. Arthas, their savior was back and the armies from the south and the Silver Hand were surely close to Tirisfal by now. The zombies who had now become known as the Scourge were sure to cower and fall now that help had arrived. Arthas ascended the stairs to the keep and disappeared inside. "Arthas will save us." said Arkerya. "Help is here and more help is on the way isn't it father?" "Indeed." Said Arkerya's father softly. He then paused and said "I love you both. And I wish Drew was here to celebrate with us. We all miss him and will never forget him. And soon he will have retribution when a soldier bearing the crest of Lordaeron cuts the ones responsible down. I hope that I will get that chance." Arkerya and her mother exchanged confused looks and then looked at her father. "I have decided to take up arms again. I've volunteered for the Lordaeron army." "NO! Don't dad. You don't have to do this." Cried Arkerya, forgetting all about Arthas. "If you die too the new baby will grow up without a father and mom and I will be alone." "And what if I don't Arkerya?" interrupted her father. "Should I just let Drew's fate be and forget about how they ravaged our home and killed our friends? Or maybe I should just forget how they attempted to take you and your mother too. The king has called all willing and able bodied men to arms and I am able and more than willing. I'm going to do..." but his words were drowned out by a loud, deep, dark sounding voice. "This kingdom shall fall, and from the ashes a new order will arise that will shake the very foundations of the world."

That same fear that took Arkerya in the house on the day of the invasion gripped her again, for this was a voice that she and all of the people of the eastern kingdom knew well. And to think that it just said what she thought it said was truly devastating. She and all others scarcely dared to believe it. The one man who gave them hope, the one ray of light in an ocean of despair, the would-be savior of the final free living mainstay in the north had just announced his betrayal. Arthas, prince of Lordaeron and paladin of the light, was raising the dead. From the city cemetery the dead rose from their final resting places. From the corpses of fallen guards and murdered townsfolk came the same abominations she saw before. And now the deathly calm outside the walls had become a colossal army of the living dead. They came and kept coming out of the haze that surrounded the city walls. With Arthas's arrival, the gates were wide open and the walking dead, the Scourge, swarmed the defenseless hordes of people. The Lordaeron army began to fight, various schools of magic flew in all directions, and the clergy ran from the cathedral and began speaking to the light, which answered in kind. "This is it then..." said Arkerya's father." Run as fast as you can and don't look back. I'll find you when the battle is won. I promise." "YOU CAN'T!" Said Arkerya's mother. "You'll die. I can't lose another member of my family! I won't let you go dad." Said Arkerya. "Not another word." commanded her father. "If it is blood that will save my land, family and friends, then it is blood I'll shed. I'll give every last drop of it in my body, and Drew's fate will be avenged. I love you both. Take care yourselves and remember; don't look back." Arkerya made a grab for her father, but he was gone. Yet again another of her dearly beloved family had been taken from her by the Scourge. But her mother, being older and wiser than her daughter, took her hand and started to run.


	3. Chapter 2: Flight

They fled the courtyard to the north. The city streets were flooded with townsfolk and refugees alike all heading for the inner fortress through the now open armory portcullis. Scores of humans, elves and dwarves all charged in the other direction directly towards the pandemonium in the southern courtyard. She and her mother hastened to the armory and then up a short flight of stairs to the dining section and then down a long corridor to the training facility outside. The stream of people hurried through another large door to a room with trap doors in the stone floor.

"LISTEN CLOSELY" shouted a soldier in front. "I need everyone to make their way through the trap doors and into the tunnels. They lead to a place where we would make our final stand if that's what it comes down to. Hurry through and don't stop until you reach the outside." And so they ran some more. For what seemed like eternity they hustled through the tunnels to the other side. But when they emerged, they only found more of the undead. They were everywhere, slaughtering everyone and everything in sight. The refugees scattered, running into the forest and back through the tunnels only to find that this "Scourge" was closing in on them from that end too. They were trapped. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. There could be no survival now and Arkerya and her mother were helpless.

The men tried to fight but were overcome by the unnatural strength and rage of the zombies. A skeleton wearing armor grabbed her mother but Arkerya and a man she didn't know tried to push it away. Arkerya hit it in its skull and kicked its shinbones and screamed like a harpy but nothing phased the thing. It lunged for her and Arkerya covered her face with her left arm. The zombie plunged its teeth into Arkerya's flesh just as the man picked up a nearby rock and cracked it on the undead skull. The skull fell off and the body was blind. It violently searched for Arkerya but found someone else instead. Afraid and in pain, Arkerya and her mother ran into the woods hoping to escape the Scourge. But they were trailed by several of them who had seen them fleeing. The two of them were exhausted and could barely keep a jogging pace. The Scourge closed in on them and death seemed imminent. An arrow flew by Arkerya, narrowly missing her left ear and she heard a scratchy voice wail behind her. Several more arrows flew by her head and struck more of her pursuers and a living voice up ahead shouted "Get in! Get in!" It was the monastery. They had reached the foothills North of Lordaeron where the scarlet monastery was nestled. "This must have been where the last stand would have been made." Arkerya thought. The two of them ran as fast as they could through the wooden gate onto the castle grounds and into the main hall. A man bearing a scarlet tabard and crest approached them.

"Refugees from Lordaeron I presume?" He asked gruffly. Arkerya and her mother nodded together. "I am Randal Von Gunhilldur, commander of the scarlet monastery militia here in Tirisfal. It's a miracle you two made it all the way here. The Scourge is spreading all throughout the northern territory and nowhere is safe anymore. We haven't seen a friendly soul in weeks, or a messenger of any kind. Either of you fighters?" Arkerya and her mother shook their heads together. "Hmmm..." He started to look them over and saw Arkerya's arm. "You can come with me and give me the best report on the situation as you can Madam." he said to Arkerya's mother. "As for you," he said to Arkerya, "you had better get to the' medical wing lassie. That there is a deep wound and will need priestly attention. Macintyre! Get her there." "Right away sir." Said a handsome young man as he lightly put his hand on Arkerya's back and led her down a corridor and up a spiral staircase into a room in the southern tower with glass windows, white curtains and hospital beds. Most of the beds were full of wounded scarlet soldiers and monks. One at the far end of the tower was screaming hysterically as two priests desperately tried to calm him with magic and soft words. Several other men looked as though they might rot alive and others still were coughing, expelling black sparks as they did. But the one thing that Arkerya noticed most was that most of these fighters had been bitten somewhere.

"What is the significance of biting?" she wondered. "Hello milady." Said the gentle voice of a middle aged priestess as Macintyre planted his feet by the door. "My name is Dora Haphlish. Another bite victim Mac?" "Aye." Said Macintyre. "Dear me we need to clean that up right away. It doesn't look too bad so just sit here and I'll be back with some cleansing herbs." The priests handling the insane man led him further up the tower out of sight. She moved across the room to a table with a number of alchemical tools and reagents on it. She began grinding herbs and powder into a fine grain and then mixed in some oil to form a deep yellow cream before quickly returning to Arkerya. "This will cleanse the plague from you and hasten the healing process." She said as she began to apply the ointment to Arkerya's wound. "What plague? Why have so many people here been bitten?" Arkerya asked. Dora put on a troubled look and said, "Because that's how these Scourge enlists new soldiers. There is a disease that animates their dead bodies. Through research and observation we have discovered that this disease kills the living body and then animates the dead one. All these men have at some point encountered the Scourge and fought them. But one can only fight the Scourge so long before their superior strength and numbers overpowers you, and then you have to turn and run. This is what happens to those who aren't fast enough."

Arkerya was horrified. Dora made a half hearted smile. "But not to worry my dear. You have only been bitten once and only a short time ago. For a wound this deep I should think we'll be able to cure it in three or four days with regular application of this cream." said Dora. Two armed men rushed up the stairs to where the insane man was taken. "What about these others? They don't look so good. Will they die?" Asked Arkerya. Dora looked at all the men lined up on their beds. Some of them had turned a shade of grey and others had developed boils and growths on their faces and arms. Many of them were bone thin and some were even speaking to themselves. "They are more serious cases." said Dora. Arkerya heard a loud ethereal sounding scream from upstairs. Dora looked to the staircase and said "They have been bitten many times and the illness is moving faster than we can fight it. Magic, powers of the light and a swift exorcism is all we can do for most of them." The priests who were wrestling with the mad man before returned to the room and the two soldiers came down carrying a corpse in a body bag. Arkerya stared at the two men as they passed by on the staircase and then looked at Dora who returned a somber expression. "But you can save some of them right?" Dora spoke softly as she wrapped a linen bandage around Arkerya's arm. "Some of them."

Macintyre moved for the first time since they arrived and said, "Arkerya and I must return to the commander." He beckoned Arkerya over. "Very well. I need to see her after every meal of the day to apply more of the cleansing solution." Said Dora. Macintyre nodded and lead Arkerya back to the main hall and down a different corridor to a large garden outside the cathedral where she saw Randal, her mother, a soldier bearing the crest of Lordaeron and three men who she assumed were Randal's lieutenants conversing in the garden outside.  
Randall noticed the two of them approaching. "All patched up then?" He asked. "Aye." said Macintyre. "But she must return to see a priest or at least an alchemist after every meal of the day." Randall dismissed Macintyre and bade Arkerya come closer. "Your mother tells me that Lordaeron is under heavy attack. And the Scourge hit you from the other side of the escape tunnels as well?" Arkerya nodded as she suddenly recollected the events of the day and her father's choice to fight. Silent tears streamed down her face. Her mother put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her close. "I am sorry for your loss." Said Randall. "Your Mother had just told me about your father and I may have good news in that department. We have been receiving a number of refugees since the two of you arrived. Even some soldiers made it all the way here and are resting in the armory. You might search for your father there." Arkerya and her mother looked at one another and then back at Randall who waved them away and they rushed back to the main hall and to the eastern grounds where they found the armory and a number of soldiers sitting on the floor. Many were being led out presumably to the medical wing. The two of them looked around the room and Arkerya spotted a large, dirty man with a blonde hair and a moustache. It was her father. "Mother. Look!" She shouted and ran at a sprint to her father shoving people out of the way to get to him. He smiled and stood up as she flew into his arms. Though weary from battle, he was not wounded and lifted Arkerya into the air in glee. "DON'T EVER DO THAT AGAIN!" Arkerya yelled through her tears. Her mother wrapped her arms around both of them and kissed her father fervently. Nothing mattered. The Scourge, her home, Lordaeron, even Drew's tragedy couldn't kill her glee. Her father was alive. That was all that mattered.

"What happened out there? Is the Scourge truly unstoppable? How did you escape? Are they coming this way?" Arkerya interrogated fiercely. "The battle lasted for only a few hours before Lordaeron was completely overrun." Her father began. "The Scourge had the element of surprise. When Arthas returned the gates were wide open and they swarmed the city all at once." "So it's true? Prince Arthas has betrayed us?" asked Arkerya's mother. "Yes." Said Arkerya's father after a long pause. "It wasn't any sort of fight at all, the Scourge completely overpowered us. We had only one choice: to flee. We used the same escape route you two took out. It took some doing but we finally managed to fight our way through to the other side. Who knew a battering ram could fit into a tiny space like that?" He let out a fake chuckle and put on a fake smile. Arkerya quickly picked up on this and squeezed him tight. Her father wept. "I saw Hampton." He said quietly. "You SAW Hampton? Really? I don't believe it; he made it! He's in there fighting with my-" but her mother stopped her and shook her head and the sad, awful truth grasped Arkerya. She pulled her parents closer yet and silently cried. "Is he at least... all the way... d... de...d..." but she couldn't finish her sentence." Yes my child. He is at peace." there was a long pause. "I promise I will never leave the two of you again." Arkerya's father said.

The ground shuddered and a sound like thunder sounded outside. Everyone except Arkerya and her parents looked around nervously and rushed out of the armory to the blockade to prepare once again to fight the Scourge. Men were yelling things like, "Prepare for battle!" and "Show no mercy!" But none of it mattered very much to the three remaining members of the Sulgorio family. They were together again. "Never again. But I have to go fight now." said her father. Arkerya and her mother wore similar looks of understanding and they nodded to the man as he drew his sword. "I would tell you to run, but...." Arkerya interrupted her father: "...but there isn't anywhere to run." The three held each other close, cherishing what would surely be their last moments. "Together we stand..." Arkerya paused, "...and together we fall."

Her words struck her parents in a way she had never done before. They both smiled at her and her father led the way out of the armory, across the courtyard, into the main hall and out to the blockade. The undead army was titanic. They truly were the last living bastion in Tirisfal Glade. The noise was deafening and the smell was far worse than it had been in Lordaeron. Arkerya's father gave Arkerya a vacant look and then a sad one, and handed her a sword. "Your mother is pregnant, but you are young and strong: like your grandmother." He gave her a proud smile. "Protect her to the end. Together we stand...." he said. "And together... we fall." Arkerya solemnly finished. And once again her father turned and marched to war. But unlike the last time Arkerya wasn't unhappy or afraid. Instead, she felt angry at the Scourge, and so proud of her heroic father. And now she held in her hand a sword. She had never even touched a sword in her life. She drew her blade and swung it around some and got a feel for the weight and then sheathed it again and turned to her mother. Her mother was crying and smiling in pride and she pointed to her father who was looking back at her. He wiped his eyes and smiled and turned again to the front lines. Arkerya and her mother then walked together to the mess hall deep within the castle with the other refugees to wait: wait to die, wait to turn or wait to hear that by some miracle the living had won and they could go home and rebuild. Arkerya felt a sharp pain shoot up her arm where she had been bitten and somehow, she expected she and her family would not survive. She wept.


	4. Chapter 3: Gunhilldur's Valor

The sun was finally setting as Randall Von Gunhilldur looked over the rampart at his handful of militia and then to the unholy army beyond the gate as it massed endlessly from the south. Randall had fought in many battles, and every time, whether he won or lost, he always escaped with his life. No matter how hopeless, no matter how badly outnumbered or outgunned, he had always survived the retreat. This time there was no retreat. He and his men could only fight until they could fight no more.

He descended the stairs on the rampart wall and met his lieutenants at the stables where they all mounted and moved to the front line where his troops stood ever faithfully in line waiting for his orders. His lieutenants fell in to his left and right. "Orders sir?" Asked his right hand man Handol, an extremely learned and powerful mage. Randall took a moment to size up what remained of the living army and quickly categorized the archers, artillery, magic, infantry and cavalry divisions. The monastery was only accessible from the south as it was protected by the cliffs it was carved from to the north, east and west. The castle grounds were protected by two stone walls spanning the width of the southern gorge with one gate each and the road leading through both gates and up to the castle portcullis. Randall had been devising a defense plan all day and already knew exactly what to do with his men.

"When I'm done talking, take any and all magic casters and artillery to the cliff side and take cover behind the rocks. From there, hammer away at the middle of the mob to thin their numbers as much as possible. If we have to die here, we're taking as many of these bastards with us as we can." "Yes sir." replied Handol.

"Grudamere!" Randall said as he turned to a short and tough looking dwarf with a battle axe on his left. "Sir?" He acknowledged. "You're, as always, in charge of the infantry. There is no way to climb up the cliffs and the only way over the outer wall is by ladder. Have a few of your men spread tar all along the base of the wall and a good size patch of ground in front of the gate and as soon as they reach the wall an archer will set it all ablaze. When ready station all your ranks behind the outer wall and wait for the breach." "Yes sir." Said Grudamere as he pointed to a few men and motioned them to the outer wall to spread the tar.

"And Alwen..." he said to the remaining lieutenant to his far left, an Elvin archer with a huge silver bow and a large sword." You take what's left of the archers to the ramparts on the inner wall. On my command fire a volley into the army and then wait for the command for another. When I give the order, have your best marksman loose a fire arrow from the cliffs where magic casters are positioned to ignite the tar in front of the outer wall." Randall paused. "When you hear my signal, Grudamere you fall back behind the castle and prepare to bottle neck the enemy through the portcullis. We must protect the non combatants. Handol and Alwen tell your troops to concentrate all fire at the entrance to the gate but do not compromise your cover. The ranking soldier from Lordaeron tells me that the enemy has artillery and dark magic, so it is imperative that you stay behind something. When I give the signal, Alwen, move into flanking position right behind the second wall and fire at will when it is breached. Handol, the moment there is a breach, begin concentrating your fire at the Scourge attempting to move through it. Any questions?" The three of them shook their heads. "Alright then." Randall said with a long drawn out sigh.

Randall then turned to his men. He looked at them all as proudly as he ever had. The red sunset gleamed over the clouds on their scarlet tinted chain and plate armor and Randall felt a rise in his adrenaline. He then turned to the Lordaeron troops in their battered but not beaten iron coats of arms and their tabards bearing the crest of Lordaeron in all its glory. The impending doom of them all, himself included, would have saddened him, if it weren't for the manner in which they all stood tall and fearless, ready to face whatever monstrosity transgressed into their domain. He took a deep breath and then bellowed into the crisp but tainted evening air:

"My friends. My friends from Lordaeron, my friends in the monastery, my friends from within the mountain in Dun Morough, my Elvin friends, all of you... I bid you welcome to the last battle of a golden age. The enemy is many. The enemy is unnaturally strong. The enemy seeks to enlist you into their ranks through a gruesome plague. They outnumber us by at least seven to one and we have no idea where their commander is AND... There is no way out of here." Not a soul moved nor spoke. The men, elves and dwarves simply stood at attention and listened to the commander.

"And yet... here you are. You stand before me in the best of form bearing your marks and arms as valiantly as any man could hope for. I look out there and I see a rabble of slaves and abominations. None of them feel feelings, nor do they hear sounds or see sights. They may not catch the scent of a freshly cooked meal nor feel the warm touch of the ones they love if they are even capable of love. You, however, can fight with your feelings. For our families, for our friends and for the good of the entire realm of Azeroth, I ask you to do this with me one last time. Bleed the noblest of blood with me and in the end, whenever it may come, reap victory with me. The day when the age of the alliance comes crashing down will come some day, but not today. The day when fighters run away in fear and cower and betray to save their own skin will come in time. But not today. Today we show this new foe that the living world is not to be trifled with and no one in the living world is going anywhere near the twisting nether without one hell of a fight. My friends from all over the eastern kingdoms, draw your weapons, fly your banners, and cry out with me!"

Randall reared his horse and faced the undead army and shouted with his massive blade in the air. "For Lordaeron! For Tirisfal! Long live Terenas!" The formation erupted into a battle cry that would later be talked about in legends. The fortress walls shuddered under the thunderous roar of the last living beings in Tirisfal Glade and the heavens themselves seemed to understand that all that was good was about to clash with all that was bad. The clouds parted slightly to shine a beam of hot orange sunlight on the castle and its soldiers. "Long live the king!" "Lieutenants! Take your men and move into position." Randall yelled over the war cry. "Yes sir." They said in unison. They all rode to their designated troops and led them to the spots where Randall had told them to go. Randal dismounted to pick up his long lance and put on his helm and then knelt to speak to the light briefly. He rose again, mounted his swift palomino, and looked to the south again to see that the undead army was advancing.

"Cavalry! Stand by for orders." Randal said before turning to the cliff and giving the signal for the magic to fly and the artillery to thunder. Fire, frost, arcane, holy and even shadow rained from atop the cliff face and the booming glory of the Dwarven artillery commenced. The undead army did not falter but only charged as gaping holes appeared in their ranks and bones and body parts flew in every direction. A large volley of shadow magic erupted from the Scourge horde at the cliff face. "Take cover!" yelled Handol as the magic blasted into the rock. Some of the troops suddenly became frantic with fear and others cried out as if the worst pain in the world had struck them in the chest, which it had. The magic that had met the cliff face seemed to corrupt the rock surface itself.

Randall signaled Alwen to ready a volley from the second wall. "Archers! Ready volley!" Alwen yelled over the continuing artillery fire. "Hold... hold... loose!" The arrows pierced the evening sky and shaded the sunset slightly. It was almost perfect. The arrows rained down on the undead ranks, thinning them in some places to almost nothing. But all the magic, all the artillery, all the arrows, all the retribution that rained from the sky barely scratched the surface. The Scourge charged on, closer and closer they came, and Randall recognized the right time to strike with the heavy cavalry.

"Cavalry!" he yelled over the continuing noise. "Move outside the outer wall and form a single long rank." The men and their horses began flowing out the portcullis in fours and formed a long line outside the castle grounds. Before falling out to the end of the stream of cavalry, Randall yelled to Alwen atop the second rampart. "When we cross back through the outer rampart, ignite the tar! Until we meet the enemy, fire at will!" Alwen nodded and Randall turned to the gates and rode to the center of the line. Arrows began once again to fall onto the advancing Scourge. Randal steadied his lance and prepared for the hell he was about to pass into. "This is it men! Ride hard and fight harder." With those words Randall turned to the Scourge front and to his horror he saw what the Lordaeron soldiers meant by Artillery. Huge, strange looking siege weapons with long hooks in front of them and massive three armed abominations driving them forward were now launching flesh and bone at the monastery. "_Sick. They use their own fallen as ammunition for these... meat wagons."_ Randall thought.

Now Randall Von Gunhilldur was a calm and level headed fighter. When he truly became angry, it never meant anything good for his foes and when the image of his countrymen's corpses being loaded onto these machines came into sight, Randall's blood boiled. "Prepare to charge!" He roared with bestial vigor. The arrows continued to fly, the Artillery rumbled the very ground and the magic everywhere set the glade aglow. Once again, Randall's adrenaline surged.

"Charge!" He commanded and he and his cavalry advanced with their lances at the ready, moving closer and closer to the frontlines. Faster and faster they rode until the men could distinguish the decaying faces of their enemy. The gap was closing and the men began to yell. Randall screamed the loudest of them all and just before the impact he cried out loud enough for everything nearby to hear him: "Salvation!"

The lances struck armor and the cavalry cut through the infantry ranks like a hot knife through butter. On and on they charged and as they charged, lances broke and skeletons went flying. Soon, though, they would lose momentum and Randall knew this. The heavy cavalry was a force to be reckoned with and the mighty Gunhilldur had more than one bone to pick with these monsters.

He veered to the right, never taking his eyes off the meat wagons knowing that as soon as they were clear of the enemy, those corpse carriers would fire at them. "Let's go! We have to move if we don't want to get hammered by the siege." The entire group picked up the pace and, true to Randall's instinct the corpses flew at them in great number. One hit directly to the left of his formation, then two more to the left and many to the rear and more still over shot them. With corpses falling all around them the cavalry circled all the way around and charged the flank. Moving in a straight line towards the enemy, they were more vulnerable to the siege fire. "Let's move! Charge as fast as you can or you'll be answering to Arthas the betrayer." Randal said as loud as he could.

The men rode harder than ever and closed in on the enemy formation again. Once again the ranks gave way as the lances impaled them and the Scourges forward formation was beginning to look very thin. Only a hand full of his heavy horse had fallen and Randall noticed that their charges had almost halted the Scourge. _"Something is wrong. We are doing too well. They must be readying an answer to my heavy horses."_ He thought to himself and sure enough as they ran clear of the enemy again, there were the sources of the shadow magic they saw hit the cliff face earlier in the battle. When Randall saw this, he quickly began turning his men toward them as fast as he could.

"Charge the necromancers! They'll tear us to pieces; take them out now!" The necromantic magic began flying at them, corrupting the very essence of the men and horses alike. The cavalry was thinning rapidly and the line grew ever shorter but Randall was determined to get one good hit on these dark magic casters lest they reach the ramparts. The riders, now at about half strength, crashed into the unarmored formation of necromancers. Some men fell off their horses coiled in a strange shadow and others were bucked off of their horses that were now possessed by demons. Still Randall and his men charged all the way through the ranks and ended up to the rear of the magic casters and the sight which Randall saw put a feeling in his heart he had not felt since the days of his childhood: fear.

There on top of the hill to the south flanked by numerous other necromancers, ghouls, ghosts and a variety of abominations stood Arthas the betrayer. He was holding a sword of ice and necro-runes and his cold, black armor emanated an unholy aura. His mount was a black, skeletal horse with horns and fangs and skulls on its barding.

"Turn back." Randall bellowed. "Fall back to the ramparts!" The remaining cavalry turned about and sprinted for the castle grounds. The evil magic continued to fly and now that the cavalry was retreating, they were open to the onslaught. One by one his horses fell as they rode for the gates. What was left of the forward formation of Scourge had stepped in their path in an attempt to cut them off but Randall and his horsemen plowed right through them. Alwen had moved his sharp shooters to the forward rampart and the bowmen provided cover fire for the fleeing cavalry.

The Scourge slowed slightly and returned fire with magic and more siege fire. Randall and his seven remaining riders of what was once over one hundred closed in on the gate as it swung open. The Scourge was hot on their trail and magic took out yet another rider and then the one next to Randall. Only six made it across the threshold into the monastery grounds, Randall included.

"Archers. Move back to the second rampart." He called to the top of the outer wall. With the heavy cavalry dealt with, the Scourge turned their attention to the forward push and the cliff face. More dark magic and now corpses flew to the cliff face, doing substantial damage to the troops on top of the cliffs. But the rolling artillery continued to fight back and the magic stopped only briefly to dodge the incoming fire.

Randall yelled "Archers, fire at will!" as he and his five remaining riders dismounted and moved to join the infantry waiting at the outer gate. The Scourge moved up on the wall and prepared to ram the gates with a large log. "Ignite the tar!" Handol shouted from the cliffs and the lone sharpshooter moved from his cover and lit the arrow. With dark magic and flesh and bone landing all around him, he let loose the arrow. The arrow landed right on target and ignited the tar, sending the rotting flesh of the Scourge up in flames. The living army cheered as the way became impassable and the Scourge halted. But to the dismay of Randall, the Scourge simply began again, almost undaunted by the flames once the dead skin burned up. "_Feel no feelings."_

The undead infantry began ramming the gates right through the inferno. Randall and Grudamere looked at each other as the battering ram pounded on the gate. "Only one way out of this one." Said Grudamere. Randall paused and listened to the rhythmic beat of the log pounding against the gates. "Death it is." Said Randall shortly and the gates crashed open. "Charge!" Randall and Grudamere said in unison as they swung their sword and axe into the nightmarish creatures. The infantry cried out and followed suit.

Randall ducked to avoid a slash from an enemy skeleton and then he beheaded it. A walking corpse punched him in the jaw and a ghoul attempted to bite him. He stabbed the ghoul in its rotting heart and then dodged another blow from the corpse before slicing off its legs and then its head. Randall moved further into the horde and stomped his foot on the ground. Magical lightning burst from the impact point and knocked every undead in the immediate area to the ground. A fallen Lordaeron soldier took a swing with its sword and grazed Randall in his left arm. Randall quickly spun around and cut clean through the former man's torso, severing it at the waist. Suddenly an arrow flew under his arm and into something behind him. Another ghoul had attempted to sneak up behind Randall. Looking to the second rampart, he saw Alwen with a smirk on his face. Grudamere rushed to Randall's side and together they sliced and cleaved through the undead as hard as they could until they reached what Randall would have called a small problem if this was a laughing matter.

A colossal abomination that was previously seen pushing a meat wagon was now preparing to swing a massive cleaver at them. Instinctively they dropped to the ground, narrowly avoiding the hulking blade as it swept overhead. Grudamere, being the shorter made a move under the things legs to get behind it. Randall rolled to his right, once again barely avoiding the cleaver as it hit the earth with a thud right where he was less than a second ago. Grudamere leapt as high as his short stubby legs could and embedded his axe as far into the creature as it could go. The abomination, stunned for a moment, reached behind it for the axe but not before Randall sliced further into its already gutted and festering belly and then its knees. The thing fell onto the ground and Randall stabbed it in the head. Grudamere quickly grabbed his axe out of the dead monster and the two continued wreaking havoc on the enemy's ranks.

But the living infantry was tiring and thinning. Randall knew he needed archer support. "Fall back to the inner wall. Get them in range of the short bows!" He shouted. "Alwen! Cover the infantry! Concentrate all fire on the inner gate behind us!" Alwen ordered his bowmen to cover the retreating infantry and the arrows flew hard. Seeing what was going on below, Handol ordered the magic casters to target the advancing Scourge. Randall and Grudamere and their infantry slowly moved back towards the inner wall, fighting off the Scourge as they moved.

As they moved further up the hill, Randall noticed something in the distance; meat wagons, dozens of them, were taking aim at the cliffs.

"Handol! Take cover! Enemy Artillery inbound!" Randall screamed. And the corpses flew, in number far beyond Randall's anticipation. And when the impact sounded, Randall looked to the cliffs. The artillery and magic casters were all but obliterated and Handol was nowhere to be seen. _"Damn."_ He thought. He franticly tried to conjure another plan to counteract the blow to his army, but if the Scourge had that kind of power in their ranks, there was nothing any of them could do.

He looked over at Grudamere and then to Alwen, who wore similar looks of dismay and made the decision he had dreaded throughout the battle. "Fall back to the castle. Archers first." He yelled. Alwen looked as though he had been slapped in the face. "Nearer the women and children? Have you lost your mind Randall?" Alwen called back. "Get there and get there now! Do NOT argue with me." Randall replied.

"Grudamere. Go and rally the remaining artillery and wait for me at the castle gates. Have them aim at the keystone above the portcullis." For the first time in his career with Grudamere, Randall noticed a look of apprehensiveness about him.

Never the less, he took off toward the cliffs and Randall stayed behind fighting the Scourge as hard as he could. Another abomination sewn from different corpses had made its way to Randall. This time he had no help. A similar cleaver to the first one flew over Randall's head and he ducked just in time. Randall moved around to its side only to be kicked back by the things massive foot. Randall hurried to his feet and dodged the club in the abominations left hand and took a swing at its arm. He connected and made a large gash in its flesh. It swung around and made another swipe with the cleaver and then with the club. This time Randall was struck and it hurt really badly. Stunned and vulnerable, he lay on his back and the abomination heaved the cleaver high in preparation to cut Randall down the middle. Suddenly, it fell over, unable to stand. A burly middle aged man stood behind the now helpless thing. He wore a Lordaeron tabard and had blonde hair and a mustache and he had cut the abominations Achilles tendons. Randall leapt to his feet and chopped off the abominations head.

"Got you covered sir." Said the man. Randall smirked in a barbaric, almost insane, but thankful way and continued to fight. Over the battle, Randall heard Grudamere shout.

"In position sir!" "Here goes nothing. Archers! Move back through the portcullis! Infantry do the same." Randall yelled. The archers steadily streamed into the castle grounds. Randall and the man who saved him continued to fend off the Scourge on the front line.

"Infantry! Move back through the second wall and close the gate on my signal!" His troops opened up the gate and moved through with haste. Slowly but surely, the living army moved back towards the castle. Randall looked back at the wall as it grew nearer and nearer and when he and the soldiers up front with him were within reaching distance of the wall, Randall stomped his foot again. A clap of thunder boomed from the impact point and the Scourge was blown back.

"Get through the gate!" The remaining troops shuffled back behind the second wall. The Scourge up front was collecting itself. "Close the gate now!" Some soldiers pushed the gate shut as fast as they could and blocked the Scourges entry. "Get to the castle as fast as you can!" The Scourge pounded away on the inner gate. The remaining soldiers passed into the castle and Randall stopped right inside the portcullis. Grudamere and 3 Dwarven artillery teams were waiting for him. The Scourge exploded through the inner gate and was charging at the open portcullis. "Wait for it." Randall said to the artillery. "Wait for it." The Scourge grew ever nearer. "Hold!" The Scourge was right on top of them. "Fire!"

The cannons fired at the keystone above the portcullis and the wall started to buckle. Grudamere and some living troops pushed at the huge wall towards the Scourge and right before the front lines reached the open portcullis, the enormous wall collapsed, creating a hill sized pile of rubble between the two armies and crushing a good size hunk of the undead Scourge. The living were inside the castle walls, and the dead were outside; a stalemate.

All was quiet. All was still. Randall could hear the sounds of the Scourge hitting the rubble in their mindless attempt to advance, but the way was, at last impassable.

"Grudamere! How many mages left?" Randall asked. "Two sir." Replied Grudamere. "Damn them. Damn the Scourge! And Handol?" Grudamere shook his head. Randall sized up what remained of his troops. They were at less than half strength except for the archers who had sustained minimal casualties.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Macintyre. "You! Macintyre." "Yes sir?" replied the young man. "Take charge of the infantry. Send them twenty at a time to the armory and get spears and then wait for further instruction. Randall said. "Right away sir!" Randall spotted Alwen and beckoned him over. "Alwen set up your archers high so they can see over the infantry. Quickly now! It won't be long before the Scourge clears a path through the rubble." "Yes sir." Alwen said as he ran to his archers and began directing them.

"Grudamere, this is the last stand. You understand that right?" Randall asked his right hand man woefully. "I understand what you mean my friend, but I would say the word last doesn't really do it justice." Grudamere replied. Randall looked into his companions eyes. Grudamere was troubled by the decision to take out the keystone. Randall shared his distaste. "No Grudamere. I don't suppose it does." There was a brief silence between them and then Randall spoke. "Are you with me?" Grudamere stared into his commander's eyes and made a half hearted smile. "Do you have to ask?" Grudamere obviously didn't expect a reply.

Macintyre had equipped enough men to suit Randall with spears so he climbed on top of some boxes to speak to his troops once again. "Ok. Infantry listen up!" He bellowed over the murmur of his men. "To those of you, who now have spears, drop your shields. To those of you who don't, form ranks in front facing the rubble." The men, still braver than lions and ever faithful to their leader formed four lines in front of where the portcullis used to be. "Now sheath your swords and use both hands for your shields. Spears, line up behind them." The spears formed ranks behind the shield carriers.

"Our strategy is as follows. The shield carriers must push the Scourge back at the same time and then the spears will thrust on the back heave. You must listen to me as I give the commands and do NOT break from your rank. Team work is the key here and if even one of us falters, it could mean failure. So push hard and thrust straight and we will upset the forces of evil today and prove, once again, the forces of the light always prevail." It was of course just pep talk. Every fighter in the army knew as well as Randall there would be no victory here. And yet, the men cheered and raised their weapons in the air. Randall felt unusually proud of his men that day. In the face of certain defeat and death, they still cheered and fought on. They were still loyal.

Randall jumped down from his vantage point and sheathed his sword. "Grudamere. Take some men from the back and go and protect the non-combatants." Grudamere began to argue: "But… sir…" "Don't argue Grudamere. Just go. Someone has to do it." Grudamere closed his mouth and swallowed. With a nod, he turned and went to the back of the formation to gather his troops. On his way into the castle chambers, Grudamere Broadbeard looked back at his long time companion Randall. This was the end for sure. Grudamere had meant what he said about this being the last stand. Last didn't do it justice. He turned to the castle with his handful of men. And that was the last time he ever saw Randall Von Gunhilldur.


	5. Chapter 4: Vileness and Brutality

Grudamere had always thought that Randall and he would die together in a hopeless battle, charging hard into scores of enemies and slaying them in great numbers until the inevitable end came. But now that that very fight had finally arrived, he was walking through the main hall into the cathedral to make a final stand alone.

Grudamere had always thought that Randall had no equal in combat, save for Uther "The Light Bringer". Uther's connection to the holy light was legendary and he was a strong fighter as well. Grudamere couldn't help but wonder about Uther. After personally training Arthas for all these years, where was he now? Why wasn't he at Lordaeron and was it because Arthas killed him. _No… Even this new grotesque and traitorous Arthas wouldn't be able to slay The Light Bringer. Nothing can slay him." _

_Someone is going to have to face Arthas in the end. It may as well be Uther. I just hope we can help him somehow today. _ He thought. _We_ _shall see_. Of course Grudamere understood perfectly that even if he or Randall managed to get to Arthas, they lacked the trump card of holy power that Uther had. Still, he was ready. Grudamere had never before encountered a foe he wouldn't fight. Even if he couldn't possibly win, he welcomed, almost relished, the challenge, although, this time it was a little different. After everything Arthas had done in the past week, the sound of his name made the dwarfs stomach churn.

"Damnation!" He yelled aloud in frustration as he passed into the Cathedral. A young villager dropped the sword she was attempting to swing, startled from the sudden outburst. The rest of the crowd bustled a little and then went back to their silent grief. The only one who showed any real sign of "life" was the young woman who picked up her sword and began practicing again. Grudamere couldn't imagine why she had a sword. She was much too young to be a fighter and she wore common clothes so she couldn't even be a squire.

But he didn't have time for silly young girls and their futile efforts to suddenly learn the arts of swordplay and save them all from a ghastly doom. He had a job to do and the Scourge would soon break through the crumbled wall and then into the courtyard to kill them all, including the young woman.

On that thought, Grudamere let out a heavy sigh and ordered his men to form up. They all moved quickly into formation in front of the steps outside in the courtyard, but some of the fervor that was originally driving them forward had dissipated.

There was a loud crash coming from the other side of the castle. Grudamere recognized the sound of Dwarven cannons shooting at hard stone, but no sounds of battle yet. _The Scourge must have commandeered our cannons. Either that or_… Grudamere shuddered. …_they have raised my fallen comrades._ In his heart, he knew the truth. His faithful countrymen were fighting on the other side now, for Arthas.

The young woman hit the wall by accident with her sword. Grudamere looked again, this time at her face and he discovered that he recognized her. It was the girl who Randall spoke to earlier that day. _Aria? Or maybe it was Allerya._ He thought. Looking slightly embarrassed, the girl continued to practice. Grudamere wanted to tell here to choke up on the hilt and swing with her arm rather than her wrist, but there was no time. He had only minutes to prepare himself for the end. He started turning to the front but before he lost sight of the girl and her sword, she hit the wall again and lost her grip. The sword was headed right for Grudamere's chest, but he simply caught the slow moving blade by the hilt and held it up to look at it.

The young woman looked apprehensive and attempted to hide behind her bangs as she approached Grudamere. On the other hand, the dwarf was rather amused. It sort of reminded him of playing with his father's hulking battle axe as a child. He had chopped the kitchen table in two. His Father was so proud, but his mother spanked him with the flat side of that same axe. He read the elven engraving on the blade and swung it around a little. _Ah… Arkerya was her name. _"Come over here Arkerya."

The redhead approached Grudamere warily. She stopped in front of Grudamere looking like a young puppy that had chewed up her master's shoe. "You should choke up on the hilt. And keep your wrist straight. If you don't have a firm wrist, you will surely lose your weapon." Grudamere said holding out the sword for Arkerya. She looked a little relieved as she took the blade from Grudamere's hands.

She looked slightly less woeful than the rest of the refugees, but she was not smiling either. She had a look about her face that reminded Grudamere of his squire. It was the expression of a warrior's spirit in development, a state of mind that could not be made or trained, one that could destroy nations and build new ones. "Thanks." She said softly.

After a short pause, Grudamere tried to lighten the mood. "You know lassie, of all these men, women and children, you are the only one who isn't miserably depressed, not that I blame them." He mused, but it was to no avail. He wasn't really any good at that sort of thing, but he felt rather sorry for her. Here in the end she was to be a fighter after all and it didn't even matter that she wasn't prepared because she would soon meet fate anyway. Arkerya said nothing. Grudamere changed the subject.

"You were the first to arrive here weren't you, the common girl who gave Randall his initial report?" She nodded. There was another awkward pause. "Would you rather I left you to your training then?" He asked. "No." She replied quickly. "I'm sorry if I seem uncongenial. It's just… well…" She lowered her voice and spoke in a somber tone. "We aren't going to make it out of here are we?" It was almost as if she could read Grudamere's thoughts. Another loud crash from the other side boomed through the hills and the refugees stirred. This time it was followed by more. It seemed the Scourge were organizing and preparing for the breach. But there were still no sounds of fighting. Arkerya stared down at Grudamere, waiting for his answer. He didn't know what to say, so he did what he always did when he got speechless. He quietly told the truth. "No. I don't imagine that we will."

There was a long pause before the woman spoke. "My name is Arkerya Sulgorio. I came from the hillside in the west." "Grudamere Broadbeard is my name. I come from Dun Morough." Grudamere replied. "Judging by your weapon, I would have guessed you were an elf. But, if you don't mind me asking, why do you have it?" "My father gave it to me right before he joined the rest of the troops outside." Arkerya replied.

"Your father is a soldier then?" "Ex-soldier. He retired years ago, but he rejoined the army when the king called for aide from the people. That's him in the back row there." Arkerya said, pointing at the formation. Grudamere was a rough and stern dwarf, but he had more compassion for those weaker than himself than most. He called out to Arkerya's father.

"Soldier! You there, in the back on the left. Step out of rank and come over to your daughter." Several men turned around and a blonde middle aged man quickly left his rank and headed quickly to Arkerya. He wrapped her in his arms and held her tight and Grudamere stood with his arms crossed as rigid as a tree trunk, vowing not to get emotional.

There was more artillery fire outside but there were still no sounds of battle. As father and daughter held each other in mutual bliss, Grudamere lost himself in the memories of his own daughter. It was a day of terrible sorrow for Grudamere as he hugged his child the same way Arkerya's father did, only to march to battle himself and return to find that his beloved daughter had been killed in a raid on his home in Kharanos. And here another father would not only surely meet his end, but his daughter would also meet the same gruesome fate.

Grudamere almost lost his bearing, but smothered his emotions and recovered his hard outer shell. "Where is your mother Arkerya?" Arkerya's father asked. Arkerya paused and gazed at her father as though she might die on the spot and said: "She's in labor dad."

Arkerya's father blinked. "Where?" He asked. "They are in the room behind the altar, but the head priestess won't let me in." Arkerya's father made a run for the altar only to be knocked flat on his back by a holy barrier. "I already tried that Dad." Arkerya said. "One of them conjured that to keep me out and to keep the…" Arkerya's voice trailed off, but her father understood what she had meant to say.

Arkerya fell to her knees and started to sob. Her father kneeled down in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders and his head against hers. Grudamere felt as though his heart was being torn from his chest. _How many families are going through this? How many more are watching as everything they love is torn to shreds? How many newborns will be have been slaughtered?_ And then, for the first time that evening, Grudamere hoped for victory. And quickly his hope turned to anger and sorrow as he remembered what awaited him outside. He HAD to save this girl and her family. He HAD to help them survive. He would never be able to live or die happy if he didn't.

There was an extremely loud crash outside and now Grudamere heard the sounds of armor and steel. The Scourge was coming and the end was near. Grudamere almost didn't have the heart to tell Arkerya's father to return to his rank. But he did anyway. "Goodbye Arkerya." Her father said solemnly. "I love you daddy." She sobbed. "I love you too sweet heart." He turned and started walking, but then paused and looked back. "Together we stand." Arkerya rose to her feet with sword in hand and replied in a manner that made Grudamere shed a tear at last: "Together we fall."

________________________________________________________________________

Randall and his men took cover under their shields as more rocks showered over them. The buckled wall would soon topple under this heavy bombardment and the end would come. Randall found the situation ironic. After an intense fight with the superior numbers of the advancing Scourge, he and his men destroyed their own wall! And now that cluster of rubble was the only thing between them and the twisting nether. But the plan had worked exactly as he intended, so he did not press the matter.

Another loud blast from the other side of the wall issued and the whole unstable pile shifted. Randall, realizing just how little time was left, took his position at the front with his shield. Another bombardment and then another. And then, finally, the wall crumbled.

The Scourge climbed over the top of the low mound of stone and began the push. It became harder and harder to hold them back. "Keep pushing back!" Randall yelled over the pandemonium. More and more skeletons, ghouls, walking corpses and zombies flowed onto the line of shields. "On three men!" He shouted again. "One, two, three, HEAVE!" The line of protectors shoved the Scourge back as hard as they could and the spearmen thrust over their shoulders and into the Scourge. It was fairly ineffective as the undead had little flesh to begin with and were almost undaunted by the stabbing power of the spears.

"Aim for the heads spearmen!" Randall yelled. The first volley of arrows shot over the infantry's heads and thinned the Scourge momentarily. They were building up again on the front line and Randall ordered another push. The spears went into the heads of the undead soldiers and it had a much greater effect. But the shields were weary before this plan and the constant pressure was almost too much for them. Never the less, the line held and the fight pressed on. Again they pushed and again the spears thrust. And then again they thrust, and again and again, but at long last, the line faltered and the Scourge moved through. They began biting and scratching and the ones with weapons cut down anything in their path. More abominations plowed the road, taking out ten at a time with their massive cleavers, clubs and hooks.

Randall ordered the retreat into the main hall of the castle. "We'll bottle neck them at the doors. Hold them back at all costs. The arrows continued to fly until the Scourge finally got to Alwen and his archers and tore them apart. More of the huge abominations Randall had fought were entering the fray. Randall and about 30 men made it to the castle where the narrow doorway would provide an even playing field and force the Scourge to go one for one with the living. They drew their swords and with a final war cry, the men made their last stand. Scores of skeletons crumbled to the ground as the men continued their gallant final fight.

The battle lasted long and the Scourges losses were many, but in the end, Randall found himself with only five men left. Five, of what must have been 350. Randall never got scared. He only got angry and this was no different. The furious warrior's blood boiled as he raised his sword to charge into his ultimate demise and the end of all living men in Tirisfal. He swung his blade with lightning speed and godly strength, taking out three or more zombies with each swing. His heroic strikes cut through the undead as if they were only air. One of his men succumbed to the onslaught, and then another. Three remained. Then two, and at long last, Randall Von Gunhilldur, the unbeatable, stood alone. He continued to fight for all he was worth and more and more Scourge fell to his mighty blade. He cried out in agony and hate for his foe like a mad man from hell until his body became too weak for his resolve and at long last, the Scourge tackled him, and consumed his flesh. The way was clear. The Scourge advanced.

Grudamere heard the furious cries of Randall and ran to the front of his formation. The non combatants screamed and moved closer to the back of the cathedral. Grudamere steadied his nervous men. Randall stopped screaming and Grudamere kneeled and said a prayer for him. When he rose to his feet again, he saw the Scourge begin to surge into the cathedral.

"This is it. Fight hard and don't let up. For Tirisfal! AND FOR RANDALL!" The handful of men charged forward and the battle raged. More Scourge piled up on the floor and fewer and fewer men fought on. Grudamere ducked just in time to avoid a slash from a skeletal swordsman. He quickly answered with a slash of his own and cut the skull off of the spine. A ghoul jumped at him and Grudamere blocked it and threw it off of him.

More and more of his men fell to the monsters until only about ten remained. It was then a new type of enemy charged the living, this one impervious to their weapons. Ghosts flew through the walls and past the Scourge. The skeletons and ghouls halted and the ghosts flew into the men. A black shade coiled Grudamere and he keeled over to the ground and was unable to move. There was silence, the same eerie calm that had plagued Tirisfal for weeks now. The living army was beaten.

Grudamere looked around at his men to see them all in a similar state of bondage and what happened next changed Grudamere. The Scourge parted at the door to reveal the mastermind behind the whole ordeal, the one responsible for the pain and suffering of thousands. Arthas the betrayer strolled leisurely into the holy hall and stopped at Grudamere.

As he spoke, a feeling of hopelessness took Grudamere by his entrails. "Who among you calls yourself commander?" Arthas said calmly. Grudamere hesitated and then spoke up. "I do, you son of a bitch." "Tsk tsk. Strong words for a defeated dwarf. And what do I call you?" Arthas replied. Grudamere said nothing. "Very well, I will call you slave." Grudamere shuddered at Arthas's words as he knew exactly what he meant. He wanted to struggle, but the ghost had him completely paralyzed.

"And what's this? Non combatants? They will make a fine addition to the work force." "You sick bastard!" Grudamere blurted out. Arthas ignored him and instead paid attention to a woman who was screaming in the back room. He started walking and hit the barrier that barred his way. "Humph. How Quaint." He said as he waved his hand and dispelled the barrier, much to Grudamere's dismay.

Arthas strolled inside, punched the two priests inside and the screaming stopped. Arthas then walked slowly back over to Grudamere with a new born in one hand and a woman by the throat in the other. "It seems we have a new addition to the family." He said. "You there…" He held the baby out to a ghoul with a broken jaw. "Take the infant." "Don't you dare!" Grudamere shouted furiously. "Put them down!" Arkerya screamed as she lunged at the ghoul. Arthas ignored them both. Arkerya's mother screamed and Arthas's face remained remorseless as the ghoul took the baby by the arm. "Eat it." Arthas said.

Arkerya jumped up and beheaded the ghoul with her sword, catching the baby as it fell. Two skeletons subdued her and a third wrenched the baby away again. The priests who were in the back room cast some holy magic at the evil man. Arthas slowly walked forward through their onslaught of spells and cut them both down and then lifted Arkerya's mothers head by her hair. "You will watch this." He said as he nodded at another ghoul.

The second ghoul took the baby, opened his mouth wide and swallowed the poor infant whole. Grudamere cringed. "YOU REPULSIVE AND TRAITOROUS BASTARD ARTHAS! THERE IS NOWHERE YOU CAN HIDE AND NOWHERE YOU CAN RUN. I WILL STAB YOUR HEARTLESS CHEST WITH THE SWORD IN MY HANDS. BY THE LIGHT I WILL GET YOU FOR THIS, I SWEAR!" Arkerya blared, struggling with the skeletons and with tears flowing out of her eyes. Arthas made no expression.

"You will learn to love the taste of flesh and forget all of your useless compassion in a few days. For I will release you from your mortal bonds and replace them with immortality." Arthas pointed at all the Scourge in the room. _This man is truly mad! Immortality? More like purgatory._ Arthas then threw down Arkerya's frail mother. "Your soul now belongs to me." He hissed and held his hand to her face. As his hand retracted from her face, a ghostly white image of Arkerya's mother flowed from the body and into Arthas's mouth. With a shrill gasp and a thud, Arkerya's mother laid still on the ground. "Kill the weak and the elderly." Arthas said to his Scourge.

All of Arkerya's fear and preoccupations had left her by now. All that mattered is that she got at Arthas. "You are a traitor and a coward Arthas. I WILL destroy you. On my family's graves I WILL destroy you." Arkerya said savagely.

Arthas raised a hand to halt the Scourge and strode over to Arkerya and looked closely into her eyes. He put a hand on her chin and lifted her head slightly. His hands were cold and his stare and smile were even colder. Arkerya bit his finger as hard as she could. Arthas made no sound but simply smirked as though nothing had happened. "But your family doesn't have any graves, remember?"

He grinned a wicked grin and then turned to his Scourge. "Throw 'her' in the dungeons with the experiments. She has already been infected and is only in the early stages. But in the meantime, I want her to suffer as much as possible before she finally succumbs and joins me." He said with an unsavory chuckle. And he left.

The Scourge wasted no time. They trampled the young and tore the old apart. Arkerya was horrified at the merciless massacre and she thought of her family: Her brother who had been ripped in two before her eyes, her poor mother who was deprived her new born child and awarded instead a swift separation of body and soul, her father who died in battle with the undead, and now her newborn sibling whom she watched be literally devoured by a ghoul. Arthas had taken everything from her, and soon, she feared, he would take her freedom. He would make her his slave to commit more atrocities for his terrible cause.

When the blood bath was over, the Scourge dragged Arkerya, Grudamere and a few others out of the castle and down the road back to Lordaeron. A long hour passed before Arkerya saw the once strong and welcoming gates of Lordaeron again. They were no longer the gates to safe haven, but now, foreboding. Lordaeron was truly lost to the darkness.

Through the ruined and awful smelling court yard of corpses that didn't lay still and into the keep they took her. Past a strong wooden door and down many flights of stairs they took her and finally, they locked her in a cage. Arkerya felt as if she might go mad. A sharp pain shot through her arm from where the bite wound was. Her veins were turning a deep purple and she slipped into a cold sweat. In her heart she knew; it wouldn't be long. She was turning. She was doing exactly what Arthas wanted. She was suffering.


	6. Chapter 5: Freedom At Least

Arkerya winced as she touched the area around her infected right arm. Two days had passed and they had not been kind to Arkerya. She had been sweating profusely since her first day of captivity and it was getting harder and harder to sleep. When she could sleep, her dreams were riddled with obscene and horrifying dreams of her pillaging a helpless village that bared an eerie similarity to her own. And when she woke up, she always had an intense hunger, though she didn't know what for. "Plague Spreader", they called her in her dream. "Plague Spreader".

The other prisoners, including Grudamere were not much better off. Though they were not infected with the plague, a necromancer would come to the cages every now and then and take one of them out the door and down the hall to perform experiments on them. Grudamere had spoken about this to Arkerya briefly but refused to talk at length.

The necromancer and his undead lab assistant had force fed him poison and then monitored his reaction. He lost the feeling in his legs and arms and then started to choke. It was when he went temporarily blind that the assistant gave him the antidote.

Arkerya convulsed suddenly. A pain unlike anything she had ever experienced grabbed hold of her mid-section and tossed her like a rag doll. She choked on the foam around her mouth and she coughed up a little blood. She thrashed in her cage and hit her head on the bars several times before finally coming to a stop on her back.

Grudamere, in the cage next to her reached out for her hand. He had been doing this since the beginning of their imprisonment. It was the only thing that kept Arkerya fighting. She reached out weakly with her left hand and took Grudamere's. There they stayed for a few minutes, cold, hungry and abused, and held each other's hands.

The necromancer opened the door and strolled in as he usually did. Upon seeing the two of them he swatted their hands apart and then went to a young man's cage on the other side of the room. He opened the cage and dragged the struggling prisoner out of the room and down the hall to the lab, slamming the door behind him.

The necromancer never spoke and never acted like anyone was more than a lab rat to him. Arkerya hated him almost as much as she hated Arthas, but not quite as much.

The thought of Arthas was making Arkerya mad again. If it weren't for her decrepit condition, Arkerya would have been on her feet causing all the havoc that she could.

"You're thinking about him again, aren't you?" Grudamere asked. Arkerya looked over at him. "I hate him Grudamere. I hate him… so much." She replied. "I know lassie. I know you do." He shifted a little before continuing.

"I never saw it coming. He embraced the light so whole heartedly. He did so many great things with the Silver Hand and now it is all for nothing. I can't believe he is responsible for this." Arkerya wanted to cry, but she was so dehydrated that she couldn't. After all, what does a convert need with water?

They remained silent for a while before Arkerya spoke again. "Everything I ever knew and loved is gone now; my family, my home, and now… this." She said weakly. "Something must have happened to him in Northrend. I hope Uther gets to him. I hope Uther makes that traitor beg for a death of his own before throwing him in prison to be tortured as we are. Uther can make short work of him, right? Grudamere?"

Grudamere knew better than Arkerya. Uther the light bringer was an incredibly powerful paladin to be sure, and before he watched Arthas dispel an advanced holy shield spell, he would have said yes. But against Arthas's newfound power, Grudamere knew Uther would fall. Once again, Grudamere was speechless.

"I'm afraid not, Arkerya." Arkerya curled up in a ball. "Then all hope is truly lost. The rest of the world will die like my mother and brother and every soldier will die like my father. Every infant is doomed to be devoured by ghouls. Everyone in all of Azeroth is doomed to the same dark destiny that we are; that I am."

Grudamere's heart sank into his stomach, for he knew that once Uther fell, his order would soon dissipate. Arkerya couldn't have said it better. All hope was lost. Even the mighty armies of Lordaeron and the famous Randall Von Gunhilldur could not stop the onslaught of the Scourge. He wished for a hero, for someone to save the Silver Hand, and lead them against Arthas and his Scourge. Inside his mind he wished for a champion to defeat this ultimate evil. He wished.

But the circumstance that made Grudamere feel the worst, the thing that made it personal, was that he survived to see the suffering of his fellow man and this poor girl who lost everything. In the end, he was unable to protect her. At long last, Grudamere shed his hard outer shell and broke down.

"I'm so sorry Arkerya." He said. Arkerya looked over at Grudamere. "I'm so sorry. I've failed you. I've failed you in the worst way imaginable." Arkerya reached out for his hand again. "It isn't your fault Grudamere." She said. "You fought more bravely than anyone could have hoped for." Arkerya clenched Grudamere's hand tightly as another sharp pain shot up her arm and into her chest. "I'm grateful my friend."

"It is Arthas's fault. All of it is his fault and you fought him to the very end. You are a hero Grudamere. If we were to get out of here, I would follow you to the end of our days and exact retribution on Arthas by your side. You are a _hero _Grudamere." Grudamere looked up at Arkerya who was actually smiling at him. _"The very end" she says. _

A screech of pain echoed through the dungeon from down the hall and Arkerya started to convulse again. She thrashed around her cage again and uttered broken sentences that were far out of character for her before curling into the fetal position once more. She lay motionless with her eyes half open and Grudamere felt immeasurable pity for her as he clenched her trembling hand even tighter. _"The very end…"._

The necromancer returned with the limp body of the man he had dragged off earlier. The necromancer began looking closely at Arkerya who was now muttering to herself. His back was turned to Grudamere. _"The very end..." _He thought again. The necromancer began unlocking Arkerya's cage to take her out. _"Not yet. I'm not out of breath YET. Damn the very end, it's over when I say it's over." _With all the strength remaining in him, Grudamere reached out with his left at the necromancer, grabbed him by the neck and pulled him close. The necromancer slammed into Grudamere's cage. With his other hand, he took the necromancer by the chin and moved his left to the back of the necromancer's head and snapped his neck.

The necromancer lay motionless on the floor, the keys on his belt within reach. Grudamere took them and began unlocking his cage. "What are you doing?" Arkerya said with a wheeze. "We're not dead yet. And I don't intend to be. So long as I still draw breath, the very end will never come." Grudamere replied determinedly.

"We'll be caught." Said Arkerya. "Not if you keep your voice down lass." Grudamere unlocked Arkerya's cage and then the others'. There were four of them. Two of the others were brown haired soldiers from Lordaeron, one slightly taller than the other. They stood about six foot four.

The third was an older man with a gruff face, thinning grey hair and hazel eyes. He stood about six feet tall and had an aggressive but calm posture about himself. Grudamere assumed he was a former soldier who had retired.

The fourth was a woman with short black hair, which she wore in a pony tail, and pale skin. Her eyes were a light shade of green and she looked just the opposite of the men. It seemed to Grudamere that this woman had endured a lot of loss in the last few weeks.

"My name is Grudamere Broadbeard. If you all want to leave this place then you will have to do exactly what I say exactly when I say it. Tell me your names." The old man spoke first. "Remus McGrady is my name." The shorter Soldier spoke next. "I am Corporal Samuel Finch and this is Corporal Alco Seeder, at your command sir."

Grudamere then looked to the woman, who looked back at him and said nothing. Grudamere had listened yesterday from his cage as she screamed from down the hall when the necromancer took her. She was covered in cuts and bruises and her skin was unnaturally pale. She had bared the brunt of the abuse.

Grudamere spoke as gently as he could. "Lass… I know you have suffered and I know the pain you are enduring is utter and complete. You have no doubt lost everything you love and worked for in your life and you feel there is no way to regain any of it. I understand your sadness." He paused, waiting for a reaction, but found none.

"I can get us out of here, but I cannot do it alone miss. I need your cooperation." He paused again. "Please…" Finally, the woman spoke. "Vanessa." She softly croaked. Grudamere nodded and put a hand on her shoulder before turning to the soldiers to speak with them again.

"Her name is Arkerya and she cannot move quickly of her own accord." He said, pointing at Arkerya. The two nodded in understanding. "Can you all run?" Grudamere asked. They all nodded. "Very good then. I will take point. We have to be stealthy to get out of here. Everyone, keep quiet and don't go in front the person in front of you. Seeder, help Arkerya and stay right behind me. You will be behind Seeder, Vanessa, and you Remus will stay behind Vanessa. Finch, take the rear and make sure nothing sneaks up on us. Is everyone ready?" The prisoners nodded anxiously. "Then get in line and stay close."

Seeder slung Arkerya's left arm over his shoulder. "The necromancer really did a number on you didn't he?" Arkerya hesitated, realizing the consequences of telling the man who was carrying her that she was infected. "Yes…" she lied.

Arkerya looked at Grudamere apprehensively. "Don't worry Arkerya." He said reassuringly. "I know the way out and I'm pretty good at staying hidden. We will make it out. I promise." Arkerya's expression didn't change, but there was no time for Grudamere to worry about her preoccupations, for he had his own to consider.

Grudamere took the dagger from the dead necromancer's belt and they all lined up at the door. _A dagger isn't really my choice of weapon, but it will have to do. Just remember what the elf taught you; stay low and get behind the enemy. _The dwarf sighed to calm and collect his nerves.

Grudamere cracked the door open and peeked outside. The lab assistant was walking toward the door. Grudamere waved everyone away from him and he moved to the side of the door to ambush the skeleton. The door opened and it looked at the empty cages. Grudamere leaped out and snapped its neck bone. The body flailed aimlessly, vigorously searching for anyone before the dark magic failed and the bones were motionless.

Grudamere peeked out the door again. This time the coast was clear. Grudamere waived everybody forward and led the way out the door. Arkerya coughed loudly and the entire group froze. Grudamere feverishly looked for trouble, Seeder leered at Arkerya and Vanessa started to panic. Remus and Finch attempted to calm her down.

"You'll get us caught woman! Bite your tongue!" Seeder hissed. "Quiet boy..." Grudamere quickly snapped back. "Or YOU will get us caught." He surveyed the hall again. There were no guards. They were still unnoticed. Grudamere motioned left out the door and moved quickly down the corridor. They neared the corner at the end and then stopped. There were two guards at the door half way to the other end of the cell block, each of them walking corpses armed with short swords. That door was the way up to the surface.

_Good. They have flesh. I can stab them. _Grudamere mouthed the word 'wait' and then peeked around the corner. They were twenty feet or so away. He would have to cause a distraction. He picked up a small piece of broken brick and threw it over their heads and to the other side of the cell block. The two corpses chased the sound without hesitation and Grudamere glided around the corner to get behind them, making not a sound but the indiscernible 'pitter patter' of his feet.

The guards stopped at the far corner and gazed around looking for the source of the noise. _Almost there. Almost there... _ Finally, Grudamere was close enough. With his dagger he reached around the first corpse's neck and slashed its throat, killing it again. The second spun around and made a slash at Grudamere. He dodged and stabbed the corpse's brain. It too fell to the ground and lay motionless. The way was clear.

Grudamere waved the rest of the group over and opened the door just as Arkerya seized again. She convulsed and spat blood and a strange black substance on to the floor at Seeder's feet. Seeder dropped her and made for the swords the guards had dropped, followed closely by Finch. Remus steadied his feet and took a step away from Arkerya.

Vanessa on the other hand broke down again and sank, trembling, onto the floor. The three armed fighters looked around feverishly, praying that their cover wasn't blown. Arkerya thrashed and spat up more of the black substance. Remus threw himself on top of her to keep her from moving as much as possible.

When she finally stopped, Seeder and Finch looked at the foul black excrement Arkerya had spat up. "You've got the plague!" He exclaimed in horror, a little too loud for Grudamere's patience. Remus scrambled to his feet in shock, but did not back away.

Finch chimed in. "You've got the bloody plague! Why didn't you tell us, dwarf?" "Don't run off boy. You'll only get caught and end up the same as her." Grudamere said. "And if we stay, we will still end up like her. She's not far from turning and when she does, she will not let us live. I say we avoid an unnecessary risk and leave her behind, unless you'd rather fight her later."

Arkerya looked anxious under her haggardness. "Mind your tongue soldier. I promised her I would get her out and to help and that's exactly what I intend to do. If you would also like to leave this place alive, you will help me to do it or I will cut your throat myself."

At this statement, the two soldiers exchanged looks of uneasiness and then turned back to Grudamere. Seeder spoke for them both. "We are moving on. She is too heavy a burden to take out of here and she isn't going to make it anyway. We don't want to die. If you're smart dwarf, you'll leave her here and catch up to us." Without another word, the two ran up the stairs beyond the door and rounded a corner and were out of sight.

Remus kneeled down and put a hand on Arkerya's shoulder and stared at Grudamere. Vanessa didn't move from the corner she had taken refuge in. "And what about you two?" Asked Grudamere. "Do either of you feel like dying?"

"Those two are young and inexperienced and what's more, they deserted a woman in need and one of Gunhilldur's lieutenants. I will have nothing to do with that suicidal duo." Remus exclaimed. Vanessa quietly shook her head.

Grudamere was slightly flattered that Remus knew who he was. "Good. Then let's move forward." Grudamere said as he picked up Arkerya and put her arm around the back of his neck. The remaining three moved through the doorway and up the stairs. At the top, they found themselves in the mess hall. _We are near the barracks. Good. That means the armory isn't far._

Grudamere hobbled across the hall with Arkerya on his left shoulder and Remus and Vanessa followed closely behind. Seeder and Finch had left the door wide open. Grudamere motioned for everyone to stop. He put Arkerya down and approached the great doorway. After looking left and right, he determined the coast was clear.

Remus picked up Arkerya and the other two moved over to Grudamere. They all took a right into a short corridor and rounded the corner and arrived at the troop living quarters. Grudamere had been formulating a plan ever since Finch and Seeder had abandoned them.

"Just out that door is the armory. We'll get in there, gear up and then make for the courtyard ramparts. Those narrow walls will decrease their numbers to how ever many can fit on the wall at once and that should give Remus and me the best opportunity to defend the two of you and make it to the portcullis and out of the citadel. Once we arrive at the portcullis, I will need you to cut the ropes that hold it up Remus. The gears are stiff and will lower it slowly enough to allow you the time you and Vanessa need to get down the stairs and out the gate, trapping the Scourge inside and you out. I will stay behind to hold off the Scourge at our back until it is time to make a run for it. Any questions?"

Remus spoke immediately. "What about the Scourge at the front? Won't they be advancing from the bottom of the portcullis too?" "That door is hidden. Only the top military commanders and the king know about it. Even prince Arthas didn't know about it, which is what I'm counting on."

Remus nodded once and Vanessa nodded nervously. With all the group members in understanding, they moved out the door and across the path to the armory. On the way, Grudamere noticed a large gathering of Scourge in the courtyard. His instincts had been correct. The ramparts were their only hope for escape.

Once inside the armory, Grudamere picked up the biggest axe he could find. Remus headed straight for a silver long sword and, to everyone's surprise, Vanessa picked up a dagger and Arkerya chose an Elven short sword on a weapons rack that Remus had put her next to. There would be no non-combatants today.

"Line up behind me." Said Grudamere. Remus hoisted Arkerya up and the group got back into a line and Grudamere led them to the door. "When we exit, we'll take an immediate left and then again at the other end of the armory building. That is where…" But he stopped short. There was commotion outside and Grudamere surely knew what it was.

"Get ready!" He said. Remus looked down at Arkerya who was staring at her sword and smiling melancholically. "That is a fine sword. You don't see many like it in armories. The elves usually keep their weapons with them at all times." Arkerya looked up at Remus. "Right before my father died in the battle at the Scarlet Monastery, he gave this to me. He said, 'Together we stand… together we fall'. And so this sword will fall with me, whenever that may be. I thought I had lost it when the Scourge took it away."

"Stay close to me." Said Grudamere. "Let's go!" Grudamere swung open the reinforced door and moved quickly along the wall to the left, down the alleyway and into the courtyard. The Scourge was moving in full to the other side of the courtyard and, as Grudamere suspected, they were after the other two soldiers. Seeder and Finch had found themselves a battering ram and were attempting to plow directly through the swarm of undead soldiers.

"And they called us crazy!" Remus exclaimed. Grudamere's chivalrous nature was getting the better of him. He thought of cutting away at the other side of the crowd to help clear a path to the portcullis, but surely he wouldn't make it out of that one. He thought of using one of the trebuchets to shoot at the Scourge, but he didn't have enough people to operate the giant siege machine. He thought of charging head first into the crowd without any regard to safety whatsoever, but that make him as foolhardy as Seeder and Finch.

The four had reached the top of the stairs and were moving along the city walls. It was too late for Grudamere to help the soldiers. Across the way, he saw the two come to a stop as they ran out of steam about half way to the portcullis. They fought ferociously with their short swords but quickly succumbed to the outrageous numbers of the Scourge. They were now the enemy.

Their foe vanquished, the group of four no longer had a distraction to mask their escape. _This is the moment of truth. _Thought Grudamere. _If they run to the portcullis, we are finished._ The Scourge swarmed toward them and to Grudamere's glee, none ran for the portcullis. _The way is clear! We are almost out of here._ _Nothing can stop us now!_

Suddenly, there was violent coughing and wheezing behind Grudamere. When he turned his head to look over his shoulder, he saw a grey, convulsing, dying version of Arkerya. "Hold on Arkerya! Just hold on!" He bellowed over the noise, but it was too late. Arkerya started thrashing and speaking gibberish and finally, she bit Remus.

Remus clawed at her face and tried to push her off. Vanessa came up from behind and stabbed Arkerya in the back. Remus successfully pried her jaws off of his shoulder; he heaved her off of the wall and into the crowd with the rest. Grudamere stopped dead in his tracks.

_No_…Grudamere thought. _After all the suffering and after all the horrors we endured together, you died anyway. You died… I failed you yet again. _ His adrenaline began to surge. His eyes became blood shot, his heart started to race and his head started to reel. _I failed!_ "Run! Run for all that your worth!" He shouted. The three remaining survivors ran forward and then stopped, for the Scourge had discovered the door behind the portcullis. "Cover the rear. I will plow the road." Said Grudamere like some kind of animal.

And then Grudamere charged. Grudamere was in a bloodlust. If ever there was a time when Grudamere could not be stopped, it was now. With almost super Dwarven strength, he swung his axe in front of him, destroying the animated remains in front of him six at a time. On and on across the wall the furious dwarf rampaged toward the city gate. Remus and Vanessa cut down the fastest Scourge that were able to catch up from behind and, at last, they reached the tower at the city gates.

Without thinking, Grudamere barged through the door and continued to annihilate anything in his path. Remus kept his head and slashed the rope that held the portcullis open. As Grudamere had said, the gears grinded and clanked and the portcullis slowly fell. "Let's go Vanessa!" Remus bellowed. "We have to get out before it closes." Vanessa pulled her dagger out of a walking corpse and followed closely behind Remus down the spiral staircase. Grudamere was still storming through scores of zombies on the inside of the gate. "Grudamere! The gate is closing!" Remus yelled. Grudamere didn't acknowledge him. "Grudamere!" Grudamere stomped his foot and sent Scourge flying in all directions. "Arkerya would have wanted you to escape!" Vanessa screamed out loud.

Grudamere turned his head at the sound of Arkerya's name. "She would have wanted you to escape her fate." Grudamere was crying, though the other two couldn't see it. _Arkerya, I'm so sorry. I failed you and because of that, your soul is lost._ Grudamere stomped his foot again and then used the time to break for the closing gate. At the very last second, Grudamere slid underneath the gate and scrambled to the other side._ Forgive me._ The portcullis crashed shut and the Scourge were trapped inside. The three made for the woods to the east of the walls. The way was clear and there were no Scourge on their tail. Once deep in the woods, they stopped to catch their breath in an overgrown patch.

Vanessa embraced Grudamere and whispered a "Thank you" in his ear. "You are one of the most ferocious fighters and best strategists I have ever seen. You are also pretty lucky. Gunhilldur would have been proud." Said Remus.

We wouldn't have made it out of there without you. You saved us." Vanessa said. "Not all of us." Grudamere replied somberly. "You came so far! You did everything that you could. You sweat and bled for that girl and she still didn't make it. You did everything you could. It wasn't your fau…" "Just stop." Grudamere said sharply, interrupting Vanessa. There was a long silence. "We must make for Southshore. From there, we can rest and make ready for the journey to Ironforge." Said Grudamere. "Getting through Silverpine might be dangerous. We don't know if the Scourge has outposts to the south." Remus said matter-of-factly. "I know. But before the sacking of Lordaeron, we got intelligence from one of the monastery scouts about the situation up north about a week ago. Andorhal is completely destroyed and Stratholme is holding out from the inside. The monks and champions there are hardy and will be able to hold out for a long time, but we won't find help for you there and we need to report the defeat of the northern kingdom to our southern allies. Ironforge is the closest city that we can get to safely and there are priests capable of healing you there."

Remus paused for a moment. "I can be cured though, right?" He asked. Grudamere didn't answer right away. He had originally planned to use some forest herbs to slow the spread of infection and allow enough time to get to Southshore. The sting of his failure did not relent. "Aye…" Said Grudamere. "Your bite is fresh so if we hurry and make good time to Southshore, I can use the herbs that grow in Silverpine to buy us enough time to get there where a more skilled herbalist can treat you. After that, we can fly by griffin to Ironforge. A priest will be able to cure you completely once we're there."

Remus breathed a sigh of relief and nodded in understanding. _It's a long shot, but I promise I won't leave you behind Remus._ "Let's move on. It's a long way south and these woods have changed. Just keep doing what you've been doing and I anticipate an uneventful trip to Southshore. But keep up. Time is short for you Remus." Grudamere turned to the south and began walking with Remus close behind him. Vanessa, however, had something to say. "Grudamere… Thank you." Grudamere stopped and turned around to listen. Vanessa's voice echoed in his ears. She hadn't spoken much since they met and he was taken by surprise when she spoke so gently and sanely.

"Thank you for pulling me out of there. I was almost sure that we had no chance. I was so certain that we were undone that I almost didn't care. Even after you killed the necromancer, I still thought we would never get out alive. You're a hero master Grudamere."

Grudamere was flabbergasted. He had been called short, brute, leg breaker and lieutenant, but never in his all his years had he been called master. Vanessa continued… "It seems the time has come for Azeroth to put her differences aside to fight the evil that is corrupting the land itself. I will join the Stormwind infantry, and tell your story in all its glory."

Vanessa smiled as she praised the dwarf and Grudamere thought of Randall. _Perhaps it's time to take his place. _And then Grudamere thought of Arkerya. The image of her mangled and diseased body attacking Remus was still fresh in his mind. He thought of the sacking of Lordaeron and all the people rising from the dead to aid their murderers. He thought of Gunhilldur's valiant and brilliant last stand and then of his demise. He thought of how in all of this, despite the danger, the obstacles and all of the hardship and death, he survived. He, Grudamere Broadbeard, the lieutenant, had survived his master's demise. But the most fervent memory of all was Arkerya's cold, sweaty hand, reaching from its cage for his. In a way, she symbolized the unyielding spirit of the living, and the love that the Scourge had destroyed. And now, she was one of them, corrupted by the foulest methods in existence. The thought repulsed him so much; he almost cursed Arthas then and there. _It is definitely time to take his place_

Vanessa began to say something in the awkward silence but Grudamere spoke first."Aye lassie, there is a story to be told, but it isn't mine. The true hero is Randall Von Gunhilldur, a man of legendary courage and valor. In the face of unthinkable danger and overwhelming odds, he remained steadfast in the defense of his homeland and his people. To his final breath he never stopped fighting and he never gave up. Such brilliance on the battlefield and such graceful swordsmanship has not been seen for a very long time. He is the man who deserves renown and merits and so much more, so I would have you tell _his_ tale in all its glory."

Vanessa gazed at Grudamere with teary eyes and nodded. "For Gunhilldur then." She said. "For a hero." Said a slightly melancholy Remus. "Aye… For Gunhilldur, 'The Invincible'!" Said Grudamere as he held his battle axe to his chest and saluted the heavens. _And for Arkerya too._


	7. Chapter 6: A War Far Away

The sun was beating down on the scorched and rugged land of Durotar and the troops were weary from battle, but spirits were high. Two paladins stood out from the crowd, both with short blonde hair and young, sturdy figures. They wore heavy armor and wielded the standard weapon of all adepts of the silver hand, a silver claymore. The younger of the two, Solwein, had a kind face with green-blue eyes and clear skin but still had a serious look about him always. His brother Kaonus, however, was a fighter through and through and his deep brown eyes and cut jawbones characterized it.

Solwein and his brother Kaonus sat and ate with their men and said a few words for their honored fallen. The boar jerky was good, the camp fire was roaring, and the conjured spring water was pure and refreshing. The two paladins boasted of their triumphs of the day and listened to their men talk of theirs.

Yes, all spirits were high, for tomorrow, the 20th legion of Stormwind, headed by the paladin lord, and Solwein's teacher, Arkhel "The Glorious", would march on Orgrimmar, the orc capital. Their victory at Razor Hill allowed them advancement to the north and gave their reinforcements and re-supply convoys from Ashenvale a clear and relatively safe path to them.

But still, the enemy would fight ferociously at Orgrimmar and would be well prepared with many shamans to bend the elements around them and hundreds of warriors who were twice the size of a man. The battle would be bloody indeed.

Solwein whispered in his brother's ear. "It's time to go speak with Arkhel." His brother Kaonus nodded and the two left the camp fire for Arkhel's planning tent. All of his lieutenants were gathering around the round table in the middle and Arkhel unrolled a map of Durotar and then one of Orgrimmar. The lieutenants talked among themselves until Arkhel spoke.

"Gentlemen, the time has almost arrived to attack the capitol. When our sentinel allies from Astranaar arrive, our legion will mobilize and move north to siege the city. I will now issue each of you your orders for tomorrow."

Arkhel began speaking to his lieutenants individually and the brothers drifted into their own sidebar conversation. "Do you think we can take the city on our own?" Kaonus asked Solwein. "No. The hill to the west of our encampment here offers a perfect view of the city. All of the details Arkhel has kept from the men in order to avoid a panic, I have seen for myself." Solwein replied.

"And what, pray tell, do you know that I don't?" "The walls are lined with ogres; huge ones. There must be at least three hundred of them and the only way we're getting through them is with heavy magic or siege, both of which are not in our arsenal. The elves may be good bowmen but, if we want to storm into the city, we will need magic."

"The night elves do have magic. They command all of nature. With a few chants and a wave of their hand, they can bring nature itself into the fight." Solwein sighed at his brother. Kaonus was always the brawn of the duo, but Solwein was the one who avoided sticky situations because of his brother's ignorance before their induction into The Silver Hand.

"First of all, elemental magic is not a weapon in itself. It isn't as if nature will fight for anyone who commands it to but rather someone who will fight under natures command. Therefore, nature must have a reason to destroy the Orcs and with the Tauren there, that isn't going to happen. Secondly, the elven druids are pacifists. They will not be coming to our aid unless the orcs somehow harm nature in a calamitous way."

As Solwein finished his explanation, Kaonus bit into a thick piece of jerky he had been hiding under his belt. "Kaonus!" Arkhel said all of a sudden. "Now is not the time!" Kaonus quickly tucked away the rest of the jerky and involuntarily snapped to attention. Arkhel turned back to his own conversation and Kaonus relaxed. Solwein continued.

"The other thing that caught my eye is the terrain. The whole of the city is built in a valley. In this valley there is a cleft that looks like a particularly good place for a large number of troops to hide and wait in ambush. And since they know we are at their doorstep, they are bound to be preparing to do something like that all over the city."

"Enough Solwein!" Arkhel said sharply. Just as Kaonus did, Solwein snapped to attention and shut his mouth. Arkhel turned to the final soldier to issue his orders. Solwein relaxed and Kaonus smirked at him. "Ok brother." He said. "Calculate this. Will we ever be as good as him? Do you think either of us will ever reach that kind level of paladinhood?" Solwein smiled at his brother. It was a sheepish smile, though he hid it well, for Solwein had wondered about this since he first met Master Arkhel.

"He certainly is something. You know what they say. The three of us can stand against an army if that's what it comes to. It is quite possibly because of his renown and might have nothing to do with us, but that is another story." Solwein replied, almost drifting off with his thoughts. "You haven't answered my question. Do you think we will one day surpass him?" Kaonus asked again. Solwein paused for a moment. "I don't know brother. I just don't know." Arkhel finished his one on one planning and dismissed his lieutenants who exited the tent and gave the master and apprentices their privacy.

"Now then, as for you two..." Arkhel said. "You two will lead the charge with me through the front gates once the forward battering rams get through them." This was always the case in any siege situation, but the brothers were always happy to hear it. It was said that the three of them could stand alone against an army and it wasn't far from the truth. Solwein and Kaonus were given to Arkhel, known for his almost cruel but extremely effective training methods, because both of them showed incredible resilience to corruptive magic and the both showed a strong connection to the powers of the light. When teamed up with their master, they were a force to be reckoned with.

"I must tell you of something beyond the walls of Orgrimmar. All along the outer rim of the city, there are ogres. They will be a dangerous obstacle- "We know." The brothers said in unison. Arkhel's expression did not change, for this was a common situation they were in. "The hill to the west?" He asked. "Yes sir." Solwein replied. Arkhel looked at Kaonus. "Did Solwein…" "Yes sir." The two interrupted together. "Very well. Then I have little to pass to both of you. I gave our lieutenants specific orders to help combat this, but you mustn't go telling the whole legion or else you will cause a panic. You both know how much they hate ogres." The two young paladins nodded, for they too weren't very fond of the big brutes. "Eat hearty tonight and get to sleep early. Tomorrow we move out to the city at dawn."

Solwein couldn't sleep that night. He never could sleep on the eve of battle, but it wasn't because of the adrenaline rush or the anxiety like other soldiers. Unlike Kaonus, Solwein had an intimate relationship with the heavens and the earth alike. His brother certainly had him beaten in the way of brute strength, but Solwein's knowledge and skill with holy magic was unparalleled at the apprentice level.

Through his expertise in magic, Solwein was much more in touch with the link between his realm and the next and it always kept him up on the night before a bloodbath; almost as if the light themselves were restless. Unable to sleep, he pulled off the covers, put on a shirt and went outside to look at the stars.

It was a clear night, but it was bitterly cold. A few other soldiers were huddled around a camp fire staying warm and talking quietly amongst themselves. Solwein quietly gazed into the heavens and listened to the wind, but his trance was broken by a man draped in feathers who materialized from the dark. Solwein jumped to his feet, startled and raised his fists at the unsightly intruder.

"Calm yourself Solwein. I am a friend." Said the stranger. Solwein did not lower his fists as he replied. "How do you know my name? Why do you lurk around in the dark and not announce your presence?"

The man remained perfectly still. "I am a prophet." He said. Solwein lowered his fists for he knew all about prophets. They are not really men, but a product of nature and spiritual forces unknown to most living things. When one approaches, he who is approached should always listen, for the prophet does not speak idly.

"And what do you have to say to me, prophet?" Solwein asked. "You are willing to listen? The last one I spoke to did not, and now he is paying for it." The prophet replied.

"I know of you prophets, and I know that you always have important and wise words to offer. The last man was a fool." The prophet neither smiled nor frowned. His mouth remained expressionless and his eyes looked up to Solwein from under his feathery hood.

"I'm glad you think so Solwein. He is now your opponent." The prophet said after a short silence. "My opponent? Who do you speak of? Why do you speak so vaguely as if this is a game?" Solwein asked in frustration, softening his expression quickly as the prophet raised his head so that Solwein could see his glowing red eyes. Solwein became a little more apprehensive about the prophet, but sensed no evil about him. The prophet lowered his head to hide his eyes again and continued.

"You shall know who soon enough. But to call it a game is to insult several very powerful beings, both good and evil. You are about to enter the fray on an entirely different battlefield. The one you are used to is one of blood and steel. The next one is one of the fundamental forces of existence, good and evil. Both will compete to tip the scales in its favor. It is now your task to ensure that evil does not." The prophet replied.

"Please, you must tell me more." Said Solwein. "The struggle between these forces is constant and the balance is always shifting, but soon, you will learn of evil's new ally and of the imbalance that is to come should you fail to prevent it. You are the only one left who can keep the balance stable, and your decisions from this night on will dictate the state of the new world. Your task is easier said than done, and unfortunately you must do it alone. If word of your quest, should you accept it, were to get out, the enemy would be more than able to stop you. Secrecy is of the greatest importance."

"Tell me." Solwein said seriously. "You must find the only one who can defeat your adversary. This one is powerful beyond imagination. This one has been a creature of the dark, one of 'his' minions. This one… is the next light bringer. Find this one, the heir to Uther's legacy, and guide them. Through you they will gain the ability to end evil forever, but should you fail, the light will fall and the world will forever be shrouded in the plague. Good luck paladin."

And then the prophet dissipated into the form of a raven and disappeared into the dark. _I must find the only one who can defeat my adversary_. _My adversary is the Horde, and this legion is on the verge of defeating them once and for all. And what does he mean by the 'next' light bringer_.The thought of Uther's dying made Solwein uneasy to say the least. But Solwein's thoughts were interrupted again, only this time it was a soldier on horseback. The man dismounted and knelt.

"Rise and speak, messenger." Solwein said gently. The young soldier was frantic. "My lord Solwein. Prince Arthas has betrayed us and is ravaging the entirety of the northern kingdom and has assassinated the king. His undead Scourge has taken Stratholme and Lordaeron and Arthas has personally raised Hearthglen to the ground. The monks from the monastery are holding out from the inside of Stratholme, but they are completely cut off. Arthas is still pushing forward from Tirisfal."

Solwein was taken back. _Arthas, the alliances shining star and apprentice to Uther, was collaborating with the Scourge?_ "And what of Uther? Speak!" Solwein quickly replied. "Uther "The Light Bringer" has taken the kings ashes and gone into hiding. Several paladins of the Silver Hand have gone as well to guard the ashes. I know not of their whereabouts."

Solwein was normally calm and level headed. Truthfully, he had never really known what it meant to "panic". It was only just then when his stomach lurched and his adrenaline made him sweat rather than sharpen his senses did he finally understand.

Quickly, he composed himself and tenderly asked his next question. "What has become of the rest of the Silver Hand?" "They are scattering. Last I heard, they were all returning to their homelands. They are saying that this is the end of the Order."

Solwein bit his lip and hung his head. The news from the east was dire indeed and Solwein was already struggling with his hatred of Arthas. _How could he? How dare he?_ "Alert the camp. I will inform the commander and assemble the troops. You are dismissed." Said Solwein.

The soldier ran off in the other direction and began barging into tents to wake the soldiers. Solwein, however, walked very slowly to his master's tent. Once inside, he almost spoke, but his master, Arkhel, said something first. "You're moving too slowly for everything to be alright." Solwein quickly popped to the position of attention but Arkhel waved it off.

_So he knows there's something wrong already._ _As usual, Arkhel knows everything. I wish I didn't have to tell him just how wrong everything is. _"A rider from the east just entered the camp with news from the northern kingdom. Arthas has betrayed us."

Arkhel jumped off of his cot with blinding speed and looked at his apprentice as though he had suddenly turned into a murlock. "How much damage has he caused?" "The entire northern kingdom of Lordaeron has been taken by the Scourge and the king has been assassinated by Arthas himself. The monastery detachment in Stratholme is holding out from the inside and living off the stockpile of food and weapons there, but they are completely isolated inside the city."

Arkhel paced back and forth and pondered the situation for a few moments and then turned back to Solwein. "Is the order holding strong? What has happened to Uther?" He asked. "I don't know where he is. All the messenger told me is that he has taken the kings ashes and gone into hiding. As for the order…" Solwein swallowed hard. "…rumor has it that this is the end of the Silver Hand." Solwein finished.

"I don't think that Uther will be able to evade Arthas for long; not with the entire Scourge at his disposal. Arthas will find Uther, but I'm not sure who will win that battle."

Solwein looked away from his master as though his words were poison. Arkhel picked up on this. "What is it my apprentice. Are you offended by what I say?" Solwein still didn't look Arkhel in the eye as he answered. "No master. It's just-…" "Well get used to hearing such things, because the world is about to plunge into a war far bloodier than the one we have been waging all this time."

Solwein wasn't entirely sure how to respond, so he changed the subject. "What do we do now master?" He asked. "Now we pull out of Kalimdor and make for the east." Arkhel replied. "But we have come so far. We are on the doorstep of the capitol city of the orcs. Can we really abandon that?" Said Solwein.

"We have no choice. The Scourge needs to be dealt with and we cannot play our crucial role if we are over here fighting the horde. Besides, my apprentice, the horde and the alliance won't care so much about their differences or their allegiances before the end of this."

Solwein tried to picture the alliance and its enemies fighting on the same side, but couldn't. "Do you have any questions for me Solwein?" Arkhel asked finally. Solwein shook his head. "Then send me Kaonus. I must speak with him. In the meantime, tell the troops to pack up. We are retreating south to Theramore and from there we are sailing to Menethil." "Yes my master."

Solwein left the tent to find the troops assembled. Kaonus was speaking with the messenger. "Kaonus!" Solwein called out. Kaonus ran right passed Solwein and into Arkhel's tent. Solwein moved toward the men and spoke to them all.

"I assume you all know of the situation?" There was a murmur of agreement. "Then you know why we are going back to Stormwind. Pack up all of your gear and make ready to march south to Theramore. We move at dawn."

The troops dispersed and Solwein went back behind his own tent and was left to his thoughts. _Arthas the betrayer… In a matter of weeks he has completely eradicated all life in the north and still he pushes southward. How do we defeat something like that? How will the light prevail here?_ Solwein knew that his thoughts were impure and that he was doing what a paladin calls injustice to the light, but he couldn't help himself.

_Whatever happens, I will remain steadfast and perform my duties to the end of my days. If there is a way to win, the order, and I, will find it. _Solwein couldn't sleep that night either. The sleep deprivation was wearing on him, but he never let it show. As the sun rose and the troops broke down their tents and prepared to move out, Solwein packed his own things in silence.

Kaonus hadn't spoken much since the previous night. Solwein couldn't blame him. When the entire camp was mobile again, Arkhel gave the order and, just like that, the legion abandoned a twelve month campaign to defeat the orcs once and for all.

For days they marched south through Durotar and then for weeks they marched south through The Barrens, bypassing the Horde foothold in the center and then southeast to Dustwallow Marsh. Finally it was a short walk to the northeast, off of the road and through the marsh itself. When they finally reached the southern gates of the far eastern fortress of Theramore, nestled in an Archipelago, Solwein breathed a sigh of relief.

The Horde obviously didn't want any more confrontations with Arkhel's legion so there wasn't a single sighting of Horde agents on the long march to Theramore. With everything that had happened in such a short time, Solwein wasn't in the mood.

The fortress was not like Lordaeron at all. The greenery wasn't very green at all and there weren't any villagers. On the east side was the foothold citadel, the place where each and every tactical move, attack and defense was planned. On the west was the mess and training area. On the north side was the docks, where the ships would arrive to sail them all home and in the middle was the fabled tower of Lady Jaina Proudmore. As the legion came to a halt in front of the gates, Solwein felt a little better.

"At last." Kaonus said. "My feet ache as if I carried a Kodo all the way here on my back." "The way you eat, I'm surprised you aren't as heavy as a Kodo yourself." Solwein mused. "Enough belly-aching. Go and help the soldiers make camp. You two and the senior ranks will get quarters in the citadel." Arkhel said.

"Yes sir." Said the two apprentices. As their master walked toward Jaina's tower, the two turned to each other. "Shall we flip a coin then brother?" Solwein asked. "Yes." Kaonus said. Solwein reached under his plate leggings and into his trouser pocket to retrieve a single copper piece.

"Call heads or runes in the air." He said as he flipped the coin. "Runes." Kaonus called. The coin landed in Solwein's hand on the side of runes and Kaonus pumped his arm in victory. "Sergeants and officers follow me." Kaonus yelled over the low roar of the legion.

A quarter of the mob trailed off to the west with Kaonus and Solwein was left with what the two of them called "The Grunts". Most of them were already horsing around and some were sitting on the ground. Solwein sighed.

"On your feet and pay attention!" He yelled. The mob shifted into a somewhat organized group. "We will make camp here inside the walls. Keep the streets clear and stagger the tents to avoid clutter. You will have a day to rest and then we will utilize the time we have here to train." There was a murmur of discontent as Solwein continued. "I will be about to help with any injuries or issues you may have. Carry on."

The crowd dispersed and started unpacking their tents and gear. Solwein's mind trailed off. _Arthas is the enemy. What will happen to us now? What will become of the order? What has become of Uther? Where… do I fit in? _

Solwein had faith in his master Arkhel and even more faith in Uther, but the world he was a part of was crumbling around him. _Most importantly, what will become of Arkhel? What do we do now?_

If Solwein wasn't a battle hardened paladin, he would have been shivering with fear. But, his steady state of mind stayed the distraction of fear, and Solwein began making his rounds, tending to the injured and ensuring relative troop welfare. Through and through, Solwein was a paladin; devoted to his nation, his light, and his men. If a storm was coming, he would meet it head on, and a storm was coming.


	8. Chapter 7: Stratholme Here I Come

Eight days had passed since the five Stormwind Navy ships had arrived at Theramore, and the 20th legion of Stormwind was close to home. In the far distance Solwein could spot the murky and foggy wetlands, though he couldn't see Menethil Harbor yet.

Kaonus stood unusually quietly beside Solwein, as he had for most of the trip. It took some time for it to really sink in, but during the time they had spent on the upper deck of their ship, staring out to sea, Kaonus began to fully understand what Arthas had done and what he was now. Kaonus had been very sullen indeed.

Arkhel had noticed the two had been very reclusive as of late. From the stern section he too gazed into the mist, and at his apprentices. For the first time in a very long time Arkhel wasn't offering his usual words of wisdom to Solwein or Kaonus. Solwein had been anxious about Arkhel doing something drastic. Little did he know exactly what Arkhel was about to do.

For the first time since they embarked, the paladin lord at long last approached the brothers at the bow. Both of them turned around and stood at attention before their master. Arkhel bent over the railing on his forearms and kept looking into the distance. Solwein and Kaonus both took it as a gesture of sympathy, so they joined him. After a few seconds of quiet contemplation, Arkhel spoke to his apprentices.

"I am very proud of both of you." He said. "I have put you to tests that any normal man couldn't have hoped to pass and you passed them all with flying colors." The apprentices turned their heads to their master and listened intently, for this was most unusual behavior for Arkhel. "You have been at my side for almost two years now and you have made all the difference in several battles over time." Arkhel's voice strained as he spoke. "It is time that you both ascended." Solwein was stunned and Kaonus's mouth fell agape.

"My master…" said a flabbergasted Solwein, lacking the composure to finish his sentence. Arkhel moved between the two and put his hands on their shoulders. "When we arrive at Stormwind, I take you before the Archbishop and officially declare your paladin training complete. After that, you will be knights of the Silver Hand."

Solwein was speechless. Kaonus was on the verge of jumping for joy, had it not been for their present predicament. There was a brief moment of silence but it seemed to drag on forever as Solwein attempted to collect his thoughts and reply to his master. He didn't come up with much.

"Thank you." The young vindicator managed. Kaonus came to and expressed his gratitude a little more coherently. "Thank you, master."

The shore was growing ever clearer as the three powerful vindicators returned to the railing and looked on. Nothing was said between them and nothing needed to be. They simply stood in rare moment of mutual affection between teacher and students, smiling as the dock workers came into view through the misty sunlight. Solwein was particularly glad to see friendly lands again. To him, the threat of the Scourge and Arthas didn't matter for a while.

He would be a Knight-Gallant soon, a holy shield to those who cannot shield themselves. And Kaonus would be a Knight-Errant, a holy head hunter, tracking down the lights enemies and sending them to judgment day.

As the boat docked with a shudder against the sturdy wooden docks, Solwein tensed a little, as if something was choking him. Arkhel and Kaonus looked at each other and then at Solwein.

"You both feel it too, don't you?" Arkhel asked. Solwein and Kaonus nodded. "What is it? What are we sensing?" Kaonus asked in his usual oblivious but concerned manner. "It's the Scourge, and Arthas." Solwein replied. "Right master?"

Arkhel closed his eyes and breathed the air for a moment. Solwein had seen him do this before. It was when the three were after a particularly powerful warlock in the Redridge Mountains. He felt the presence of fel energy and lost souls and it made him cringe.

Arkhel opened his eyes and then looked back at Solwein. "No. It is not Arthas." He replied gravely. He then stared at the deck without another word. And then Kaonus asked what Solwein had hesitated to ask. "Then what is it? Master Arkhel?" Arkhel still didn't say anything for a while, but continued to stare at the wooden floor of the ship. As the dockworkers came on board to ask about the hold up, Arkhel waved them off and answered Kaonus's question at last. "Death Knights… Dozens of them. They have risen again."

Solwein and Kaonus glanced at each other in mutual confusion. Then Kaonus once again asked the question Solwein had hesitated to ask. "What's a death knight?" Arkhel bowed his head and stared at the deck again without answering. Solwein and Kaonus had never seen their master like this; so thoughtful, almost as if he had hit a rare mental block and didn't know what to do. After a heavy sigh Arkhel spoke to the brothers at last. "Get the men off the ship and formed up outside of town. We march for Ironforge immediately." Feeling rather sorry for his master, Solwein put a hand on Kaonus's shoulder and led him away, not taking his eyes off of the unmoving and sorrowful Arkhel until the last second.

As he turned the corner and descended the stairs to the second deck down, he thought about the death knights that Arkhel had spoken of. Their master had never before shown this side of himself before. Whatever a death knight was, it must be something much worse than the Horde. It must be something that is altogether dreadful and dangerous, a threat to the entire world and not just human interests in Kalimdor.

The misty sunlight of the wetlands was little consolation for the eerie and disturbing feeling Solwein's attuned senses were creating in his gut. The only time he had ever experienced anything like it, was when he fought a band of orc warlocks in southern Durotar. There was a perversion about it, almost as though it was mocking all of humanity. _What is a death knight? _The question burned through his mind and he couldn't shake the lingering fear of the title from his head. The feeling inside of him was growing, threatening to consume him, but he didn't let it show.

"It's time to disembark men." Kaonus bellowed down the corridor below deck. Immediately, the troops started flowing out of their rooms and down the corridor. "Form up with all of your gear on the edge of town and make ready to march. We're headed for Ironforge." Solwein finished.

Two hours later, the legion was ready to march west for Loch Modan. The paladins three convened in front of the long column of men on the road to plan the journey. Arkhel issued the brothers' orders privately.

"Solwein, take point and lead the way. Keep a sharp look out. You know what's out there; orcs here in the wetlands, and troggs in Loch Modan. Keep your eyes open. Kaonus, take the rear and keep the stragglers in line. I've put our scout detail in back so you shouldn't have a problem with that. I will be moving up and down the line to keep order and deal with any problems that should arise."

The brothers acknowledged and rode to their designated positions in the long formation. As the march commenced, Solwein's mind simultaneously drifted back to recent events.

One of the prophet's three conditions had been met. There was now an enemy that he himself and probably all of the alliance could not defeat. The messenger on that fateful night had said that Arthas had raised Hearthglen to the ground personally. No fighter that he knew of, not even the strongest paladin, could deal out such destruction.

But what was bothering Solwein the most was the growing feeling of discomfort that started in Menethil. Like all paladins, Solwein was sensitive to fel energy. What made his current situation so peculiar was that there was none nearby and yet, his senses were irritated. And the farther west through the wetlands he traveled, the more prominent his discomfort. In the back of his mind, Solwein was expecting a source at any moment. But as they passed through the wetlands and into Loch Modan, nothing came. It simply got worse and worse and by the time the legion reached the southern guard tower, Solwein was almost to the point of paranoia.

The 20th made camp that night at the southern tower. After pitching his tent, Solwein visited his brother's tent. The two had been on opposite sides of the legion and only got to talk with one another when they made camp. Solwein had been hesitant to speak of how he was feeling, but it was beginning to affect his concentration. He knew Kaonus would listen.

"Good evening Solwein." Said a quiet Kaonus as he roasted a fresh spotted sunfish over a camp fire. "Hello." Solwein replied. Kaonus didn't say anything and Solwein couldn't think of any small talk. The silence continued and Solwein couldn't muster the courage to speak his mind. After a long silence, Kaonus finally said exactly what his brother was thinking.

"Solwein, there's something I'm feeling in the pit of my stomach." Solwein let out a breath he had been holding for a while. "I know Kaonus, I feel it too. I don't know if we want to speak with Arkhel about this though."

"Speak of what, apprentice?" Said a voice behind them. The brothers rose to attention at the speed of light, but Arkhel gestured for them to relax. "You wouldn't be keeping secrets from me would you?" He asked mindfully. Neither apprentice knew how to answer. "You feel it don't you? The plague?" Arkhel continued.

The two young paladins looked inquisitively at their master. "I am sure that you have been wondering what that itch inside of you is, and I admit I have been a little too secretive. So I'll come clean right now."

What you are feeling is what is known to the world as "the plague". To those who are sensitive to fel energy, the infected air has an adverse effect. The difference between fel energy and the plague is that the plague is a living thing, albeit an unnatural organism. Think of a druid and his ability to create life from nature. With his magic, and nature's permission, he can begin a new life. However, it is against nature's law to return something to life once it has died. That privilege is reserved only for the light and it isn't often that it performs such a miracle. When a mortal attempts this, the laws of nature prohibit the dead from fully returning to life. The result is a half life that we know as undeath, neither dead nor living, but somewhere in between."

Arkhel had never spoken of such things with his apprentices. For the whole of their paladinhood, the brothers had learned and preached the vileness and perversion of necromancy and the practice of resurrection, but they had never been taught why. Their master continued on.

"This plague, created from fel energy and bacteria, is in the air all around us right now. It can only be transmuted through the blood, so airborne bacteria won't harm us. Never-the-less, the inner light in all righteous beings wrestles with it as long as it is there, and we who are in touch with our inner light can sense it always. If the plague is able to extinguish our light, we not only become undead, we become slaves…" Arkhel paused "…to the plague's master."

Neither apprentice needed to ask who the master was and the current state of the world finally became clear. Solwein was angry. He wanted to lash out and rage, but his discipline held his tongue. Kaonus looked like he might throw up.

"The reason I explained all of this to you is so that you know exactly who your enemy is and, more importantly, why. Arthas is your enemy. He turned his back on the light by his own will. HE put out his own inner light. No matter how virtuous or noble the individual may have seemed, it takes an awful man to do that. Make no mistake; he is your enemy now. But there is something even more important that I have to tell you. It is going to be every paladin's mission until it's accomplished."

"We must defeat him at all costs. At the expense of our lives, dignity or anything we have, we must destroy Arthas. Right?" Kaonus exclaimed. Arkhel shook his head. "No Kaonus. I wish it were that simple." Arkhel sighed heavily. "We must defeat his boss at all costs. We have to get to the Lich king."

Solwein made an incredulous face and then snorted. "The Lich King? An old legend? Surely you can't be serious master!"

"I am very serious Solwein. Arthas the betrayer follows the Lich King. I am certain of it." Arkhel replied strongly. "And here is your proof."

Arkhel pulled out from under his cloak a tome titled 'The Legend of the Lich King'. He opened it and searched briefly. "While we were in Theramore, Jaina and I spoke on Arthas and one of the things she mentioned was Arthas's mission before his betrayal."

"He was after a weapon in Northrend, Frostmourn." Said Solwein. "Exactly! The two of us did a little research on the weapon and we found this tome. This is what frostmourn looks like." Said Arkhel, holding up the tome for Solwein and Kaonus to see.

"This is what gave Arthas the power to command the Scourge and rise against his nation. This is the Lich King's blade. And it is Jaina's and my belief that the Lich King is controlling Arthas through Frostmourn."

_By the light. _Thought Solwein. "Then we destroy the Lich King." said Kaonus. "Aye. We destroy the Lich King" said Arkhel. "Then let's rally what's left of the order and mobilize the Stormwind armies! We must strike at the heart of the Scourge, the Lich King himself, and we must do it now!" Kaonus exclaimed. "Unfortunately, again, it is not that simple. We don't know how to beat the Lich King." Arkhel said darkly.

"Say you are correct master. Say the Lich King actually does exist and say that he is actually behind all of this. What makes him so different from the rest of the Scourge? He is undead, so if we destroy his body, the magic cannot hold together. Powerful as he may be, he cannot defy the laws of magic, can he?" Said Solwein. Arkhel hesitated for a moment. "First of all, magic has no laws. You know that Solwein. And as for being undead, no one knows for sure what he is."

"But we do know where. He is in Northrend, so that is where we will go. It's simple is it not, master? We go to Northrend with every fighter we can muster and storm his…" Kaonus paused. "...castle?" He finished, unsure exactly what kind of dwelling the Lich King lived in. "He resides on the tallest spire in the frozen north, on a frozen throne. And that, my apprentice, is exactly why we don't just storm in. To get to the Lich King, we must first release him from this frozen prison. If we were to do that without a sure way to bring him down once and for all, the consequences would be catastrophic. No, first we must figure out exactly how to beat him." Said Arkhel.

The three sat in silence for a while around the flickering fire. To all of them, even Arkhel, the future seemed so grim. Solwein suddenly remembered the turmoil inside him that the plague was causing. He shook it off as best he could and asked a question he had waited to ask since Arkhel spoke of resurrection.

"Master? You said that the process of fully returning someone to life is only done by the light." Solwein said. "Aye. What of it Solwein?" The master replied. "When I was a young adept, I read from a tome in our archives about something called redemption. The incantation was in a language I was and am still unfamiliar with and I thought… master?" Solwein broke off. Arkhel was obviously surprised and caught off guard by what Solwein had said. Solwein wondered if he was in trouble. Kaonus looked back and forth between the two anxiously.

"How do you know about redemption Solwein?" Arkhel asked as normally as he could. Solwein hesitated for a moment. Solwein hesitated to answer as he had just said how he knew about it. "I-I read it in our archives…master." Arkhel steadied his demeanor and breathed a deep breath.

"Redemption is something that all things with a soul are capable of. Yes, it fully returns the dead to life, but it takes the life of the redeemer in return. It is, however, an involuntary act and the meaning of that incantation was lost long ago. Yet, it is believed, when redemption is performed, the redeemer recites it in the lost language and his or her soul embraces the dead… and returns it to life." As Arkhel finished his explanation, he pulled his knees to his chest.

"Listen, both of you, to what I am about to say." Said Arkhel. "Neither of you must speak of redemption unless it is necessary. The ritual is considered taboo to all mortals. Those who actually do perform it have great reason to do so and if you have none, do not even mention it. It is a godly subject, one that is beyond our rights to discuss without cause."

"So why have you explained it to us master?" Kaonus asked. Arkhel didn't answer but instead gave Kaonus a stern look. Solwein saw the situation deteriorating quickly, so he changed the subject."

"So what's our next move?" He asked. "Our next move is to get you two to Stormwind. I said you would be knighted, and I shall see it done." Said Arkhel. "After that, however, we may have to go our separate ways."

The brothers looked at each other and then at Arkhel. Both of them knew the day would come when they broke away from their master as independent leaders, but it still stung anyway. Neither of them said anything else on the matter.

The sun was fully set now, and the camp was lit only by the occasional camp fire here and there. Arkhel stood up. "Sleep well my students. We'll march for Ironforge at dawn and we'll be on the Stormwind side of the Deep Run Tram by dusk." The two stood as well and bade an informal good night to their master. Arkhel walked back behind Kaonus's tent and was out of sight.

Solwein looked over at his brother again. Kaonus was staring into the flames like he hadn't a thought in his mind. Solwein was worried for him. "How are you holding up Kaonus?" He asked gently. "I need to be honest. The plague is not my equal, but it has weakened me. I don't like being affected this way." Said Kaonus. Solwein couldn't help but smile at his brother's simplicity, but at the same time, he felt sorry for him.

The prophet popped into Solwein's mind. He had the urge to tell his brother that a prophet visited him. His words had been so vague. Solwein was so confused.

_There are so many different things that could go wrong, so much evil mounted against us. What am I to do? Where is this one that can supposedly single handedly defeat the Lich King? Is the Lich King even real in the first place? How am I to decide what to do without any information to go on? _It was at that moment as Solwein finished the last question in his head that he remembered what the prophet had said about his journey. _"You must find the only one who can defeat your adversary." That is what the prophet said. So what do I need_ _to do right now? What is priority number one? _Solwein's deep thinking was interrupted by Kaonus.

"I must admit brother. There is something else bothering me." Said Kaonus hesitantly. "The order… the messenger said it was breaking apart. You said that we two will make it through together, but what about the order? I don't want to think about a world without the Silver Hand."

Solwein sighed and silently agreed with his brother. _The order is the guiding light in the alliance. If it dies, there will be no rally point. The alliance needs paladins more than ever. We can't let that happen. _Solwein raised his head slightly and wrinkled his brow. _That's it. That's what's next. _

_"_We won't let that happen, Kaonus." Solwein said confidently. Kaonus half smiled and looked over at his brother at his brother. "We can only hope." Solwein got up quickly. "No Kaonus. We, you and I, will not let that happen." Kaonus looked at his brother across the fire curiously. "We are about to be knights. Our training is complete and if our leaders do not persevere, then you and I shall." Solwein said determinedly. Kaonus was obviously skeptical. "We are only two men. We aren't even officers. Who would listen to a couple of lowly knights like us?" Kaonus replied. "We are disciples of Arkhel "The Glorious"! You and I are destined to be leaders in the Silver Hand and it is our responsibility to ensure it does not fade away." Kaonus's half smile became a full and admiring smile. "If the order should falter, would you stand with me and press on? Would you rule the Silver Hand with me?" Asked Solwein, extending his hand to his brother. Kaonus grasped Solwein's hand and pulled himself to his feet. "Aye, little brother. So long as we live, there will always be a Silver Hand." He said. "So long as we live, big brother.

________________________________________________________________________

Around the corner, a silent Arkhel stood with his shoulder against a large boulder, listening proudly to his students. _As long as either of you live, hope will never fully fade away. I am so proud of you both. I shall get word to Stormwind that you are to be knighted. I don't think you'll be seeing me again, so take care of one another. Charge hard paladins, and never lose faith. _Arkhel reached into his cloak pocket and retrieved a hearth stone. As he rubbed his thumbon the hearth symbol, he bowed his head and whispered to himself. "Alright Stratholme. Here I come!" And then he was gone.


	9. Chapter 8: Pyrewood

On the day that Grudamere and his companions escaped Lordaeron, Grudamere wasn't the least bit concerned about the situation deteriorating. The north was all but annihilated, Gunhilldur was dead, the Scourge had multiplied exponentially, and the only three of them left were in the middle of it all. But with each gray and gloomy day that passed, a new horror crossed them; werewolves, dark hounds, wargs, and undead of all kinds. For the past two weeks the air had grown thick with infection. The traps they laid fetched mostly infected animals, so food was hard to come by. Water was dirty and sometimes poisonous. Shelter was nonexistent. The situation had indeed deteriorated greatly.

After the day of their escape, they made southwest for Silverpine. As soon as they crossed into the long southern road through the woods, they were immediately assaulted by a pack of giant wolves the locals called wargs. The wargs posed little threat to the heavily armed dwarf, but the imminence of danger set the mood for the journey.

Four days after the wargs, the three came into contact with a vicious white werewolf. The beast had lunged from the shadows for the injured Remus, but even in his weakened and sick state, Remus had managed to draw his sword in time to make a swipe at the half-wolf. Grudamere then stepped in and fought the monster. It took several close calls and a ground struggle to finally slay the beast. Luckily, the werewolf hadn't managed to bite either of them.

All the while, demon dogs with leathery, hairless, dirty violet skin, known as dark hounds, and unnaturally large bats assailed them on a regular basis. The foul canines never attacked in packs, so fending them off was a relatively easy task, although they horrified Vanessa.

The undead were all over the place in southern Tirisfal. They roamed freely, unguided by Arthas in groups ranging from the size of a platoon to the size of a battalion and also aimlessly on their own. Grudamere had led his two companions on numerous evasive paths through the edge of the forest to avoid such threats. But the growing Scourge presence unnerved Grudamere. It was believed that every single Scourge was controlled by Arthas or one of his lich commanders, but with so many of them moving about by themselves, theories about the undead were becoming sketchy in Grudamere's eyes.

But after all the hardship and danger, through hunger, thirst and fatigue, against all odds, they had reached Silverpine and were on their way south to the Hilsbrad Foothills. The group's spirit may not have been high, but progress was evident to all three. Hope proves frail, but hard to kill.

Grudamere walked in front of his two remaining companions, ever vigilant for more of the white iris flower he had been using to slow Remus's infection. The iris's healing properties made it resilient to the effects of the plague and the flower had been doing a better job than Grudamere expected. Though he didn't dare mention it to Remus, he originally thought that the old man had no chance at all.

The other two strode quietly behind the dwarf and made not a sound. Even the slightest sound of life might alert an unfriendly something to their presence. It's not as though there was much to talk about anyway. Remus had received more than enough reassurance than he needed and Vanessa wasn't so hopeless anymore that she needed any of her own. The trees were dead or dying, the ground is gray with decay, and the air stinks. All the conversation that was to be had was when one of them spotted an iris.\

The days seemed long, as the sun never really shone through the hazy and polluted air. Grudamere stopped as the minuscule amount of light began to fade. He spotted a small thicket and decided it was time to stop for the night. "Over there." He half whispered. The other two looked relieved.

"I will take first watch as usual." Said Grudamere. Remus and Vanessa lied down and curled up in the leaves. Grudamere sat down in front of their hiding place and waited for something to come after them.

The forest grew unnaturally dark, as it did every night, and Grudamere remained vigilant. In the distance he heard a series of howls that probably came from werewolves. As the time flowed he found himself thinking about what lay ahead.

_We have been traveling for little less than two months. That should put us about ten days from Southshore. Remus doesn't look so good. It only took Arkerya three and a half days to turn and he has lasted for over fifty. He may not make it to Southshore. I'll have to keep a close eye on him._ Grudamere looked over at the silhouette of the now sleeping Remus. _I hope it doesn't come to killing him. _

Hours had passed and it was time to get some rest. Grudamere woke Vanessa. "You're turn lass." A weary Vanessa stood up, stretched and rubbed her eyes and then went to sit where Grudamere had been. Grudamere likewise too Vanessa's spot in the thicket and closed his eyes. He had become accustomed to the chilly air and foul smell and went straight to sleep.

Remus awoke him the next morning with an iris he had found. Grudamere sat up and immediately pulled out his stone mortar and pestle. He picked the petals and put them in the bowl and ground out the juices. He added a little water and ground some more until he had a pasty substance. A good fire and a few other herbs would make the medicine more potent, but they couldn't risk a fire and the herbs in the forest had died a long time ago.

Remus removed his shirt to reveal the festering wound. The veins on his right shoulder were horribly discolored and the flesh had been eaten away by the fel bacteria. Every time he saw it, Grudamere got the chills as he imagined what the poor man must be going through.

Grudamere swallowed and then swabbed the chunky paste onto the wound. Remus put his shirt back on and the three continued their silent journey south. On and on they trekked paying heed to every sound and sight other than their own. They came to the rocky precipice that blocked their path. Grudamere was waiting to find this, for on the other side was Ambermill. The road east to Southshore lay just outside the town.

"Have either of you ever been to Ambermill?" He asked. Remus and Vanessa shook their heads. "It was a cozy little village. I spent a week there with my family when I was young. I wish you could have seen the trees and greenery glow in the setting sun. It was…" he paused. "…magical." Grudamere reminisced for a second and snapped back to the present. "Alright then. The road turns east on the other side of the rocks here to Southshore. But to get around them, we need to take the road. This could get dangerous so keep a sharp eye out." "How long to Southshore?" Vanessa asked. "Last night I thought we'd be there in ten days, but it would seem we are ahead of schedule. Since we can follow the road now, we should see the ocean in about six." Grudamere replied. "How are you holding up Remus?" Asked Grudamere. "I've lasted this long. Six more days should be a piece of cake." Remus replied a little less strongly as he would have liked. Grudamere noticed Remus's weakness and then disappointment, but said nothing. "Very well. Let's get on the road."

The three weren't far from the road at all. It only took about half an hour to reach it. But when did reach it, they saw something none of them could have guessed was coming. A man, seemingly uninfected, was picking a white iris.

He was unaware of their presence at the moment and Grudamere, though overjoyed to see another living person, was skeptical. "What do we do about this?" Vanessa whispered. "I say we avoid him. He seems a little too good to be true." Whispered Remus. "I'm not so sure Remus. Maybe our front in Hilsbrad is further north than I anticipated." Said Grudamere.

"He's not a soldier. Hell, he's unarmed altogether. Something isn't right here." Remus said. The man looked around as if he had heard something. The three hid behind a large tree and peeked out at the now vigilant man. "Keep it down Remus." Grudamere whispered. "I can hear you!" Bellowed the man. "Show yourself."

_He can hear us? _Grudamere thought. If you live, show yourself and I will not harm you. If not, then face me." Said the man out loud. "What do we do?" Remus asked Grudamere. _How did he hear our whispers? We must be fifty yards away. _

"He did say that if we are living, he won't harm us. I say we give him a chance." Said Vanessa. "Don't do anything stupid lass. Don't go getting yourself killed." Grudamere warned. "I am going to approach him. Keep an eye on me ok?" Said a now bright and rather excited Vanessa. Grudamere and Remus exchanged looks and then they looked at Vanessa together.

"No Vanessa." Grudamere said as her expression changed slightly. "We need to stay together. We'll all go. What can one man do to the three of us anyway?" The three stepped out from behind the three and walked towards the man. He looked wary of them but Grudamere put his hands up to show they meant no harm.

A closer look at him revealed a healthy, clean human being with very short brown hair, a bushy mustache, strong and chiseled features and a cheery attitude unbefitting of the present situation. At a distance, Grudamere had his reservations about him. Up close, he was downright distrustful.

"I am Grudamere Broadbeard of Kharanos. This is Remus McGrady of Tirisfal and Vanessa. Who are you and how have you escaped the plague?" Grudamere asked rather sharply. Vanessa shot Grudamere a dirty look, but the man seemed undaunted. "I am Arthur Stendhal of Silverpine. My home is just to the west in Pyrewood village."

There was a short pause in the conversation. The man spoke before the others. "You look as though you have traveled a long way." "Aye." Remus replied. "We fled Lordaeron and are bound for Southshore." "You came all this way on foot? And with such strange folk about? You must rest in Pyrewood!" Exclaimed Arthur, seemingly impressed. Grudamere didn't like the sound of that at all.

"We are grateful of your hospitality, but as you said, Southshore is only a few days away and time is a luxury we don't have." Said a cautious dwarf as Vanessa chimed in immediately. "Speak for yourself Grudamere. We haven't had any real food for the entirety of the journey, never mind a hot meal. And a mattress is also tempting. One night couldn't really hurt us that much could it?"

"But…" Grudamere started. _Something is fishy about this guy. A living village in the middle of this blight. That is all but impossible. _"I have to agree with Vanessa. A night of undisturbed sleep would do me good." Remus hinted at Grudamere so as not to reveal his infection to the stranger.

The situation was delicate. On one hand, Grudamere was just as weary as his companions and a comfortable place to rest for the night sounded nothing short of delightful. But on the other hand, it was just too good to be true. If Ambermill was deserted, how could Pyrewood survive? Grudamere was almost certain that this man was hiding something, and, as always, Grudamere's instinct ruled him. If he could help it, the three of them would never speak to Arthur or anyone from his village again.

"As I said, we are grateful for the offer. But we will continue on to Southshore without delay. Let's go." Grudamere commanded. But neither followed him as he began walking away. "Remus, Vanessa, might I have a word?" Said Grudamere.

The three huddled and Vanessa apologized to Arthur. "Grudamere, what's wrong with you? You are just as weary and broken down as I am and Remus doesn't get much sleep anymore." Said Vanessa. "It's true. A mattress would most definitely ease the pain." Remus added.

"I'll gather some pine needles for you to sleep on from here on out if it means that much to…" Grudamere stopped as he noticed how insensitive he sounded. "Look…" Grudamere sighed. "… I know you are tired. And yes, I am tired too. But that man is a miracle. He isn't acting like a normal person would and he is much too healthy. How does a little village like Pyrewood carry on in all of this? I don't trust him one bit." Said Grudamere. Vanessa seemed a little put out by this. "Grudamere…" She started, but hesitated to finish. "…Please."

Her plea was Grudamere's weakness. As usual, the plight of the weak weakened him. At long last, Grudamere looked into the eyes of his two companions. Remus was not only weary. He looked as though his last legs were weak at the knees. And the fragile Vanessa was practically begging him for a simple nights rest. Grudamere sighed heavily and held his ground.

"I'm sorry. I cannot trust him." He said. "If you're so worried about it then let's just ask him some questions. I'll do it if you won't." Said Vanessa staunchly.

"Mr. Stendhal. How is it that your village survives all this devastation?" She blurted out, striding back towards him. "Your skepticism is quite understandable." Replied Arthur. "It's quite simple really. We in Pyrewood were fortunate enough to have a priest in our village who is also a capable enchanter. With both these talents, he was able to enchant an orb to ward away all things undead. Her name is Lillian."

"There you go Grudamere. Can we please stay for a night now?" Vanessa pleaded once again. While still wary, the explanation was sound and put Grudamere a little at ease. At last, he caved. "Very well. If it will make you two happy." He said reluctantly.

Vanessa smiled broadly. "We thank you again for the offer. Which way to your village?" She asked. "It's a half hours walk from here. I will take you there myself. Off we go then." Said Arthur cheerily.

________________________________________________________________________

"There it is!" Said Vanessa excitedly. "Finally, we can eat at a table and sleep in a bed." During the walk while Vanessa and Remus conversed with Arthur, Grudamere had had time to think on all of this. _Maybe I need a rest just as bad as they do. Perhaps I may have judged Arthur harshly._ He thought to himself.

The three of them strode right into the village as if all was well in the land of Silverpine. But the village itself was obviously under lockdown. Any people who could be seen were peering out of their windows or from balconies on two story houses. If not for the four of them walking through the village square and into the inn, the place would have been a ghost town like Ambermill. _Guess I can't blame them. If I were them, I'd hide indoors too. _The inn was quite cozy, despite being void of patrons. Still, the bar tender manned the bar like usual and the inn keeper greeted them normally.

"Hello and welcome to The Wanderers Haven. I am your host, Belinda. Please come in and stay for a while." Said the inn keeper in a rather creepy tone. Grudamere noticed this as he noticed everything else, but said nothing.

"I am so hungry I could eat a kodo raw." Said Vanessa. "I'm afraid that food is a little sparse right now. We do have ingredients for a good meat stew though." Said Belinda with just a tiny emphasis on the word "meat". Grudamere noticed once again her odd demeanor, but held his tongue as not to draw attention to them. _Ok, so the keeper is a little strange. That doesn't mean she's an enemy in disguise. Keep an eye on her and leave it at that._

"Stew sounds wonderful. I'd like some water to drink as well please." Said Vanessa. "I'll have a bowl of stew and some ale." Said Remus. "And for you, master dwarf?" Belinda asked. "Sure… I'll have one and a glass of water too." Said Grudamere, unable to hide his wary state of mind. Luckily, Belinda didn't notice. "Alright then, three house stews coming right up."

The three sat in their chairs and waited for their food. Vanessa spoke up first. "See Grudamere? Nothing but a harmless village who got lucky. And you were worried." Grudamere didn't answer. "Oh, come now." Said Remus. "If we even got to eat tonight, it would be a malnourished squirrel or some other rodent. Stop being so somber and enjoy this." "We leave at dawn." Said Grudamere aggressively. "Stop it. You are such a…" The look that Grudamere gave Vanessa was positively frightening. She didn't dare finish her sentence.

The three of them sat in silence after that, waiting for their food to arrive. _We'll be fine. Just stay on your guard and if a dangerous situation arises, handle it with a cool head._ Though Grudamere. After about twenty minutes, the stew arrived. It was a red meat dish, with carrots and peppers and tangy spices. The chunks of meat were fresh and the aroma was quite enticing. Vanessa immediately dug in and Remus swigged his ale before eating his food a little more politely. Grudamere, however, looked carefully at his dish, playing with the chunky meat.

It seemed safe, and since Vanessa had already "tested" it for poison, Grudamere took his first spoonful. It was delicious. In the entire world, there was nothing that Grudamere could think of besides the chunky, steamy, scrumptious dish before him that was currently tantalizing his taste buds.

_The journey has been so hard, food and water so scarce, rest so sparse. Who was I to tell these two we couldn't stop for a rest at a perfectly good village. I shall apologize fervently later to Vanessa. _

By the time Grudamere had finished his thought, he too was devouring the dish. In a matter of seconds, all three of their bowls were literally licked dry. Belinda returned shortly afterward.

"You enjoyed it I see." She said. Grudamere no longer cared about her strange behavior. "More please! I must have another bowl!" Vanessa cried. "Aye! More! I must have MORE!" Grudamere said savagely.

"I'm so sorry…" Said Belinda. All three of them attempted to protest immediately, but their objections were cut short and all three fell to the ground. "…but that was your last meal." Belinda finished.

________________________________________________________________________

Grudamere awoke to a noise he could not identify. His vision was badly blurred and his hearing dulled. His body was a bit unresponsive as well and with each movement he made, his muscles ached and his stomach churned.

Impaired as he was, Grudamere's head was as calm and cool as it had always been, and he quickly surmised what had happened. _The soup was poisoned. Bloody hell! I knew something was wrong!_

The off balance dwarf made an attempt to stand but ended up on his hands and knees instead. His hearing was getting a little better every second, but his vision and body remained debilitated. "Remus? Vanessa?" He called weakly. No answer. "Is anyone there?"

His words were answered by an unmistakable howl. The loud wailing sound pierced Grudamere's calmness. Struggling to keep his bearing, the dwarf moved away from the sound as best he could and ended up back down on the floor a few feet from where he had woken up.

Now the thing that howled was moving closer to Grudamere, growling with maliciously. With his hearing now fully restored and his vision getting better every second, Grudamere's plight became clear. Approaching him from the table where he ate earlier and also from the kitchen, were two werewolves.

_I cannot catch a break. I just can't catch a break. _Thought the dwarf furiously. Grudamere squinted to try and make out where he and his comrades were. He was still in the inn where he had blacked out. There were four figures in the room. _The two lying still on the floor must be Remus and Vanessa. _The werewolf was close enough for Grudamere to smell its rancid breath.

Grudamere scrambled away only to end up cornered by two walls. The monster came closer and closer until it plunged its claws into his shoulders and howled again. Grudamere tried desperately to fight back, but the poison was too much for his body and his strength failed. It was the end. Grudamere fought no more.

And then there was a disgusting grumble from the other side of the room. The werewolf pinning down Grudamere roared and then turned quickly, ripping flesh from Grudamere's shoulders as it did. There were sounds of ferocious fighting between two different types of unholy horror. Grudamere knew the grunts and gargles of a ghoul all too well, and as his vision finally cleared, he saw the brawl with his very own eyes.

On the floor, he saw bones and flesh and torn clothes. The werewolves had obviously been eating a fresh corpse. _A ghoul and a half eaten corpse… _The scenario became clear, and Grudamere despaired. As the ghoul and the werewolves continued to tear each other apart, Grudamere hung his head, and wept. _Vanessa is eaten, and Remus has turned. I couldn't save them. I've failed again, just like I failed Arkerya. _The ghoul, being much stronger than the gangly werewolves, threw one to the ground and continued to wrestle with the other. _I am just one dwarf. What can I do against such reckless destruction and sacrilege?_ One of the werewolves managed to bite the ghouls left arm and then shook its head violently, tearing rotting flesh from bone. _"Together we fall." _Arkerya's words echoed in Grudamere's head. At last, Grudamere lost hope. _All is lost._

Grudamere sat motionless with his back against the wall. It didn't matter which side was victorious, either would come to claim him afterward. So there he waited and watched as the unnatural creatures fought. The ghoul managed to finish off one werewolf, but the other bit down on its neck and then ripped its head off. Grudamere just sat and waited some more as the thing turned its attention back to Grudamere. It gnashed its teeth together and licked its lips ravenously. It bore down on Grudamere, preparing to devour his flesh and sate its famished belly. I raised its paw, and sent it flying down to Grudamere's head. The dwarf closed his eyes and tensed for the very end.

The world faded from Grudamere's eyes and a new, strange reality gripped him. Weightlessness released him from gravity's grip. Colors that Grudamere didn't even know existed swirled around him and then began to rush past him. Faster and faster he moved thorough the weird dimension and then even faster yet, but he felt neither pain nor inertia. It was as if the rules that governed existence were unraveling and the laws of science were no longer of consequence.

For what seemed like hours the Dwarf sped forward down this surreal tube until the end was in sight. A bright white light grew larger and larger in his eyes. He started to quickly slow down, however gently at the same time. _So this is it, the end at last._

For all the pain Grudamere wasn't feeling, the pain in his heart remained. As the afterlife grew larger right before his eyes, he could think of nothing except Randall, Arkerya, Remus and Vanessa. Then he thought of Arthas, which only enhanced his already unadulterated loathing.

When Grudamere finally stopped, floating in mid air before what he presumed was the fork in the ethereal road, he found himself before a hooded white figure with great, white wings and a slender female body. Grudamere couldn't help but feel a sense of inferiority to the magnificent holy being.

She stared into Grudamere's eyes, seemingly scrutinizing him, and Grudamere was almost certain as to why. Softly, but powerfully, she spoke to him out loud.

"Your time has not yet come, Grudamere Broadbeard of Dun Morough. Your part to play has yet to come. Return now. Fulfill the new purpose which the light has given you." Said the deity.

_Does this mean I get a second chance? _Grudamere's thoughts were interrupted as he began to fall into a giant void with no bottom in sight. Gravity was again in effect and Grudamere's senses were clearing. The end to the void never came, but instead, the void itself faded away, and Grudamere winced as a staggering pain hit his shoulders, although not as badly as it had before. The blackness swirled and dissipated little by little until there was nothing left at all.

When Grudamere opened his eyes, he scarcely dared to believe what he saw. He had gotten to his feet. The werewolf attacking him lay dead before him, burned to death and the ground all around Grudamere was consecrated and his hands glowed with a brilliant light. The wounds in his shoulders were rapidly closing and healing and an aura surrounding him lit the dark room. Grudamere felt extremely strange.

Inside his head, the deity Grudamere encountered before rang in his head. _"Press on, mighty Grudamere, for you have been chosen by the light. Unto you, they place the burden of delivering salvation to millions. The path before you is a treacherous one. You will have to endure much hardship and suffering, but in turn abolish the hardship and suffering of innocents. The sacrifices the light asks of you are great, but the consequences of doing nothing are even greater. The light has chosen you Grudamere. The light will help you to learn this new power of yours. Listen well."_

The dwarf was stunned. Utterly stupefied, Grudamere found himself frozen in the spot where he stood. But this odd feeling rhythmically swelling and subsiding in his chest, almost like another living being, gave fervor to his feet. Out the door he ran, and then out of the village with daunting speed, leaving the remaining werewolves in the dust. They grew smaller and smaller behind him until they gave up altogether, not daring to travel too far from their safe haven. Grudamere stopped running and looked back at Pyrewood.

_I'm sorry. Vanessa, Remus, I couldn't help you. _Grudamere bowed his head and then looked to the sky. "If you can hear me…" He started, before realizing he didn't know what to say. Once again, Grudamere could only tell the sad and awful truth. "I can't help you now. I failed. But if I don't want the same thing to happen to the rest of the world, I must move on." The sullen dwarf lowered his head again. "Forgive me." He said.

With a jerk of his head, Grudamere turned east. Just ahead laid the road to Southshore; the road to safety. _Not much ahead but pain and suffering. _Grudamere started to run. _Arkerya is suffering more. I've nothing to complain about. _His newfound divine fervor kicked in, and not even his plate armor could weigh him down.


	10. Chapter 9: Redemption

Solwein sat quietly in the inn at Southshore, reading the cryptic letter his master had left in Loch Modan for the hundredth time. Solwein hadn't been quite the same since Arkhel had left him and his brother, although still true to his master's orders. Two months had passed by since then and Solwein had the letter memorized.

_My young apprentices, the time has come for me to leave you. Take command of the 20__th__ Legion and start in the kingdom of Stormwind. Travel north searching the land for paladins who have survived the attacks on Lordaeron and those who have only begun their trek on the light's path, serving it how they will. As you make your way north however, you may eventually meet the enemy front lines. Should this be the case before you reach Southshore, press forward until you reach Southshore. I and any others that I recruit to our cause will meet you in there. Good luck._

Solwein would have been sipping a bottle of port, but the usual routes were cut off from Lordaeron. So, instead, he sat in silence, rereading the letter over and over again.

________________________________________________________________________

The sky was growing lighter and the haze clearing to an extent. Grudamere would have been quite heartened by his newfound powers, were it not for the circumstances under which he received them. Still, the woods were clearing and the ocean came into view. Finally, after the worst experience of Grudamere's life, the little ocean side town of Southshore appeared at the bottom of the hill. The guard roamed about and signs of battle lined the perimeter. _They survived. They are fighting on. Thank the light for that._

He approached cautiously, showing no intent of being an enemy. Fortunately, his reputation in the north preceded him and the nearest guard recognized him, despite his filthy and war torn state.

"Grudamere Broadbeard! The legendary lieutenant of Gunhilldur approaches from the west," bellowed the armored guard. The better portion of the town's militia crowded towards him, vying for a good view of the famous dwarf. Grudamere should have been flattered, but at the time he wanted two things, solitude and a pint of ale. He said nothing as he passed by the crowd of soldiers. Some tried to follow, but the others held them back.

Grudamere walked into the inn and sat on a seat at the bar. "What'll you have, mate?" asked the bartender. "A pint of ale," Grudamere replied quietly. "What kind of ale would you…?" "A pint of ale," Grudamere repeated. The bartender shrugged and filled a mug with ale from the keg and set it in front of Grudamere. Grudamere lazily slapped one gold piece on the table and the bartender left him to his thoughts.

Aside from being wrought with the sting of failure, Grudamere had not felt well at all since Pyrewood. It subsided somewhat when he reached the edge of Silverpine and passed into Hilsbrad, but the feeling still remained. Grudamere attempted to shake it off and drink his ale.

"Excuse me sir," said a young voice behind Grudamere. "I wish to be left alone. Didn't you get the hint when I passed you and your comrades outside?" Grudamere replied, not taking his eyes off of his ale. "Not a very friendly fellow are you?" said the young man. Sad as he was, Grudamere wasn't about to snap at someone he didn't even know. "Sorry lad, but I'm just not in the mood for conversation right now." He said. "I can understand that. The nauseous feeling in your gut alone is enough to drive a weak mind mad."

Grudamere looked up. _How does 'he' know what I'm feeling? _Grudamere turned around and found not a member of the local militia, but a paladin with blue eyes and short blonde hair, clad in shining armor and wielding a silver claymore. "You know what I'm feeling?" Grudamere asked. "Aye, I am feeling it too. All who are sensitive to the light can feel it."

Grudamere's attention was now solely on this individual. "Who are you?" he asked. "My name is Solwein. I am a knight of the Silver Hand," answered Solwein. "How do you know what I'm feeling?" Grudamere asked. "I can sense in you the blessing of the light, though it is clouded by much despair."

There was a brief moment of silence between the two. "If you don't mind me asking, what is your purpose in speaking to me?" Grudamere asked. "As you may have heard, the northern kingdom of Lordaeron has been eradicated. The Silver Hand has scattered for the most part, and I am on a mission to reconvene them," Solwein replied. "When I saw you sit at the bar, I immediately noticed your aura." "My aura? I don't know what you are talking about," Grudamere said bluntly. "A paladin who does not know of the aura he emits?" Solwein thought on this for a moment. "Has anything strange ever happened around you? Oftentimes, one blessed by the light will perform acts that they themselves were unaware that they could do. The most common of these is the consecration of the ground and nearby objects."

Once again, Grudamere was stunned. First he knew that Grudamere wasn't feeling well and now he had guessed exactly what had happened in Pyrewood. Grudamere told Solwein of his escape from Lordaeron and the journey south to Pyrewood and of the deity he saw when he presumably died.

"Make no mistake; you are a paladin, though you cannot yet control your power. I and others like me can teach you how. If you would have it, I would like to call you a fellow knight of the Silver Hand.

Such a request was beyond Grudamere's imagination. The fire inside him was quickly reigniting as he stared the holy warrior in the face. _"Your time has not yet come. Press on, mighty Grudamere, for you have been chosen by the light." That's what she said. This is it. This is why I'm here right now. Fate has spoken. _"It would be an honor, sir Solwein. Tell me what to do."

"Very well, what is your name and where do you hail from?" Solwein asked. "I am Grudamere Broadbeard and I am from Dun Morough," the dwarf replied. Solwein drew his sword from his back. "Then kneel, Grudamere Broadbeard of Dun Morough." A pillar of light materialized from nowhere and shone down in front of Solwein onto Grudamere as he knelt. The other patrons in the inn were drawn to the scene. "And rise, Sir Grudamere, adept of the Silver Hand, the fabled order of paladins."

The rest of the inn applauded as Grudamere got to his feet. A single tear streamed from his left eye and a feeling came over him that put him at a loss. It suddenly seemed as though the weight of the world was lifted, and together with his newfound ally, he would bring ruin to the Scourge and peace to his broken heart.

But the cheery mood was quickly abolished. There was yelling outside, presumably from one of the town guards. "To arms, the Scourge approaches," called the distant voice of a soldier.

Both Solwein and Grudamere drew their weapons without hesitation of any sort. Together they rushed out of the inn and to the northern town perimeter where the guards were forming. Shortly after they arrived, soldiers bearing the crest of Stormwind and more paladins, who Grudamere presumed were Solwein's followers, joined him at his side. There were only two of them. One of the men was of average height, about the same height as Solwein. Like Solwein, he had blue eyes and short blonde hair and wielded a silver claymore, but his jawbone was more pronounced and he was a bit more muscular. The other was a burly man with shoulder length blonde hair, a full face beard and a chest that looked like it could break the hand of who ever punched it. His eyes were intense, almost barbaric, his sword was no less than twice the size of Grudamere's already hulking axe, and his expression depicted a man who has seen a great many battles. Grudamere found himself relating to him immediately.

"The man to my right is my brother Kaonus and the man to his right is Arhen, whom we recruited not but a day ago. Gentlemen, this is Grudamere Broadbeard, and he is now one of ours," Said Solwein. "Good to meet you both," Grudamere grunted. Arhen only nodded in acknowledgement. "And you as well dwarf. I wish there was time for small talk, but the Scourge comes," said Kaonus. "Hope you are up for a challenge, especially if you've never fought the Scourge before," said Arhen.

Grudamere flashed a reproachful look at Arhen who was facing away from him, staring at the edge of Silverpine for any sign of the Scourge. Solwein clapped Grudamere on the back and shook his head. Grudamere took the hint and dropped it.

"There they are!" Arhen growled. At the edge of the woods, the Scourge horde came into view. They were not quite as sophisticated as the abominations at Lordaeron and the Monastery. Most of them were simple walking corpses and skeletons, but no gigantic, abominable flesh golems, no ghouls or ghosts or necromancers. _What's the significance of that I wonder. Perhaps the Scourge has stretched a bit too thin since its campaign against Tirisfal and Silverpine. Maybe they're just here to gather a few more recruits. Maybe it's guerrilla warfare._

The mob continued to stream out of the wood and the mob began to grow quite large. _Is there no end to the Scourges might. Is there no way to stop them? _He wondered. "There's about five hundred or so; far better odds than at Lordaeron but still..." Grudamere said to Solwein. "So what?" Solwein replied. "Numbers do not decide the outcome of a battle. You have obviously never fought alongside a paladin before, have you?" Kaonus said. "You served under Gunhilldur. I have absolute faith in your ability to fight with your axe, but to fight with your soul, that is something entirely different." Solwein replied.

Grudamere looked over at him, puzzled, as the Scourge began to advance and the town guard. "Consider this your first lesson Grudamere. The feeling in your gut is not the taint of the plague, but a reaction to it. Your inner light is trying unsuccessfully to expel it and it urges you to grow stronger. Let it well up inside you, coagulate and then release it all at once. Now you know how to use the most rudimentary holy magic, so give it a try in this fight."

Grudamere wanted to learn a bit more, considering Solwein's vague words, but there was no time. The Scourge was at the base of the hill. The men shifted and murmured nervously as the undead got close enough to see clearly. "Steady gents." Kaonus shouted over the uneasy militia.

"You ready for this?" Arhen asked Grudamere. "Are you?" he snorted back. The Scourge reached the top and the fighting commenced. Grudamere ducked to dodge a skeleton's meat cleaver aimed at his neck. He reacted with a quick spin for momentum and then cleaved the skeleton in half at the bottom of its spine and then firmly planting his feet for his next opponent. Next was a corpse that Grudamere almost didn't have to fight. It was brittle and decrepit and Grudamere easily knocked its head off with the handle of his axe. Afterward though, a large skeleton appeared with a long sword and a shield. It lunged for Grudamere, slicing vertically at him. Grudamere dodged to the right and prepared to counter attack, but stopped. The skeleton spun and swung its shield at Grudamere. Grudamere put up his axe to parry the big round shield and then kicked the skeletons knee hard, breaking the leg in two. Grudamere heaved his axe into the skeletons rib cage, shattering the ribs and ending the skeleton.

There was a loud crash to Grudamere's right. He looked over and saw Solwein fighting at least a dozen undead to himself. His holy magic was truly a sight to behold. He was calling golden hammers out of the heavens to strike down his foes that writhed and tossed on the ground afterwards, and then fell silent. His sword glowed blue with holy energy and with every strike he dealt out, his blade dealt a holy shock as well. The ground consecrated with every one of his footsteps, he spoke holy chants which gave him different powers and periodically, a small storm of pure holy energy would swirl around him, knocking his enemies to the ground. Grudamere had never before witnessed a paladin in battle, and it was possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Another skeleton encroached upon Grudamere and leaped at him with a dagger. Grudamere spun out of the way and struck the skeleton in the spine. Then an unarmed corpse swung a bony fist at Grudamere and connected. He recovered quickly and stomped the ground. His intent was to summon the magical lightning he knew so well, but the ground cracked instead and from those cracks came the same holy fire he saw back in Pyrewood. The holy flame licked at the feet of the undead which then cowered away from Grudamere's holy consecration.

Grudamere was half stunned himself. The lightning blast his stomp used to conjure was powerful, but not 'this' powerful. "Incredible!" was all he could think to say. "Yes it is! Use what I taught you before Grudamere." Solwein yelled out over the battle. The fire began to die down and the Scourge approached Grudamere again. He breathed deep, trying to build the feeling inside his gut into something material. The result was more than he could have hoped for. He could feel the light swelling into his chest, giving him strength. The Scourge closed in on him ready to take him down and Grudamere swung his axe hard, connecting with the nearest skeleton. The result was a shockwave that shook the ground and blasted his enemies back. Grudamere felt invincible.

"That's it! Do it again!" Kaonus yelled to Grudamere. And Grudamere did it again, and then again. Over and over holy energy exploded from Grudamere's axe. He stomped his foot again, smiling as the helpless monsters stopped dead in their tracks and cowered away from this great righteous power of his.

_I wonder if there had been paladins at the monastery like Solwein, would that have ended in defeat? _Grudamere thought as he soaked in the unimaginable potency of his magic as well as the exponentially greater might of the other three paladins'. _At this rate, this battle can, and will, be won, even if it is only a small skirmish. Finally, we have a trump card. We can beat back the Scourge._

Grudamere stomped his foot and the Scourge retreated from the holy flames. He leapt forward, slicing of a skeletal swordsman's head. He butted a corpse in the face with the handle of his axe and then kicked it to the ground.

The Scourges numbers had diminished greatly, and to Grudamere's glee, they were retreating. _The Scourge is retreating! The SCOURGE is retreating. _He thought almost out loud. Small as it was, the battle was almost won, and then Grudamere looked down at what would be his final foe, pinned down and helpless under his broad foot… and almost dropped his axe.

Solwein noticed this. "What are you doing? Finish it!" But Grudamere did nothing except stare. Fate had brought her back. Fate had presented him with the hardest choice, and Grudamere didn't know how to choose. At his mercy, below his boot, was Arkerya, mindless and rotting. She wrestled with Grudamere's heavy leg trying to get at him with the same sword that she had before. Tears began to flow from Grudamere's eyes.

"It's not fair," he said weakly. He stood there for a moment to think of the right thing to say. "My dear Arkerya, I am so sorry." He bent down and wrenched the sword from Arkerya's hand.

"You fool!" Solwein yelled as he leapt toward Grudamere in preparation to end Arkerya. He raised his sword high, preparing a powerful blow, but was knocked back. All around Grudamere was a holy bubble of energy, shielding him and Arkerya completely. Grudamere's eyes glowed yellow and then his hands began to glow too. "Please… Forgive me Arkerya; please." He said in a broken voice. "I promised to help you. I promised you salvation and I failed." Solwein watched in amazement.

_Such advanced magic, such raw holy power. No one at his level could do that; 'no one'! What is this dwarf? _Solwein thought.

The sickly feeling that the plague induced left Solwein suddenly. The air around Grudamere became clean, almost sweet to the taste. The small contingency of retreating Scourge spontaneously combusted from over fifty meters away and the foot hills of Hilsbrad sparkled with white light and falling dust. Even Solwein, master of holy magic, was dumbfounded.

The only undead Scourge that remained now was Arkerya, who was pinned down now not by Grudamere, but an invisible effort that Solwein could not detect. Grudamere spoke, sounding as if another unseen being was speaking with him. "Arkerya, I have been granted a second chance by a messenger of the light. I have seen the brink of the afterlife, and been lent the powers of a holy warrior, powers that I intend to use on you. To redeem myself, there is only one way; it is to end your suffering and torment, to bring you back from the fate I could not save you from.

Solwein heard a ringing inside his head, a peaceful chime that soothed his soul to a point at which he could not stand anymore. As he dropped to his knees, he heard the soulful whisper of Grudamere, chanting to the paralyzed corpse beneath him. Solwein couldn't understand what Grudamere was chanting, but the cryptic speech was pacifying and tranquil. Arkerya tried to squirm but her feeble and rotten body couldn't manage much under the supreme hold that Grudamere had her in.

The air swirled around the assembled troops. The hot day had become quite cool, but not too cold and the harsh, bright sun was beautiful and calming all of a sudden. Solwein recalled the day he heard of Arthas's betrayal and compared it to what he was feeling now, concluding that this was the exact opposite. Whatever Grudamere was doing, he was not doing it alone. The light was embodying him, granting him power like nothing Solwein had ever dreamed.

Grudamere continued to chant as he kneeled next to Arkerya. The shining dwarf placed one hand over her heart and the other behind her head, never ceasing his mysterious incantation. Finally, a great column of light crashed out of the sky and into the ground on top of them. Solwein recognized this. It was very similar to what he procured onto his new recruits to inaugurate them into the order, though this was far, far beyond anything he could conjure.

The great pillar grew brighter and brighter until it became too bright to gaze upon. Solwein shielded his eyes from the blinding light and turned away. After several minutes of not being able to open his eyes, the spectacle subsided, and he opened his eyes to view the aftermath.

Grudamere lay motionless over an equally still Arkerya. The inner awareness of the plague returned to Solwein and the surroundings had become mundane again. Solwein's troops and the town guard shuffled, but were unwilling to approach. The young paladin looked to a teary eyed Kaonus and a confounded Arhen. "Come," said Solwein. "Let us see what has happened." The other two nodded and slowly approached the motionless bodies.

When they were close enough, Solwein reached down and flipped Grudamere over. He wasn't breathing. "By the light!" Solwein gasped. He threw himself down at Grudamere and summoned the greatest of a paladin's power, the power to heal one's self and others. He furiously attacked Grudamere's body, but found no injuries, wounds or anything that would indicate a dead man, but even still, Grudamere Broadbeard was dead nonetheless.

"Solwein, look," Kaonus said in a staggered tone. He was pointing to the corpse, or at least, what used to be a corpse. The other body, which Solwein had neglected since he started on Grudamere, wasn't a corpse at all. Instead of the broken husk he saw before, there was a young woman with short red hair, vibrant blue eyes, pursed pink lips and a slender, curvy figure. Solwein could also tell that her skin was exceptionally fair, though it was pink and raw after its reanimation.

The crowd was gathering around now that their leaders had gone forward first to investigate, but nobody said anything for a long time. After several minutes of quiet contemplation, it came to Solwein what had happened.

"My friends," he said; "we have just witnessed…" Solwein paused, remembering what his master had said. "We just witnessed redemption," he said conclusively.

"Unbelievable!" Kaonus exclaimed. "Who the hell was this dwarf?" Arhen added. "He was Grudamere Broadbeard of Dun Morough and his name will be written in history books for ages to come, but I think it less important who 'he' was and more important who this young lady is," Solwein said.

The three sat again in quiet contemplation for several moments, wondering what to do. Solwein spoke first. "Arhen," he said quietly. "Yes, my lord?"

"Take her south to the kingdom of Stormwind by Gryphon. Once there, take her in secret to the Northshire valley. Ask the priestess Anneta in my stead to care for her as best she can. The light does not choose to redeem one idly, and we must proceed with the utmost diligence if only for Arkerya's sake. Anneta will almost certainly agree to help, and you shall stay at her side. Should she make progress or even recover fully, you and Anneta must decide what to do from there. Regardless of that however, I shall send for you when we return to Stormwind."

Arhen's concerned expression did not change. "Yes, my lord. I shall never leave her side." He said resolutely. Arhen reached underneath Arkerya and lifted her into his arms. "Good luck on your ventures. May the light be with you," he said and then walked toward the town.

Kaonus looked at his brother woefully. "So that's it then? We are to just carry on as normal?" he asked rhetorically. "No, Kaonus." Solwein replied. "I think it is just the beginning of something else. What that something is, I cannot say just yet, but I am sure that we will soon find out." Solwein had spoken loudly enough for his troops to hear and then allowed a short period of time for his words to sink in.

"Solwein, may I have a word?" Kaonus asked to Solwein's ear. Solwein nodded and followed Kaonus back into town and to the pier on Southshore's famous southern shore.

"Solwein, our master isn't here. We have been waiting for nigh of two weeks and he still hasn't shown," said Kaonus. "I know. I have been thinking the same thing my brother and I think we both know what must be done," Solwein replied.

"We must go to Stratholme. The churning in my belly is growing stronger by the day, probably because the Scourge in the north is brewing a plan and enriching their plague. Sooner or later, they will make a move," Kaonus said.

"We don't know exactly what move they will make, but we do know they are capable. I'm sure you are thinking the same thing I am," Solwein said.

"We have to strike first," Kaonus said. "We will need to find Arkhel first. The paladin lords are few now and with his extensive knowledge and expertise, we can't afford to lose him. We must make for Stratholme immediately," he said.

Solwein took a moment to marvel at his brother's unusual wisdom. "It seems you can make rational decisions after all, if you try hard enough," Solwein mused.

"Careful Solwein; we might have to spar again. I trust you remember who won last time?" Kaonus mused back.

This time Solwein was outright stunned. Wisdom was one thing, but wits? _The world 'must' be ending. My brother just outfoxed me. _Unable to come up with a smart reply, Solwein turned his head with a jerk to begin mobilizing the legion.


	11. Chapter 10: Shattered Soul

"I have traveled from bottom to top of this continent and now that I am here, you will tell me what you know! About three months ago, there was a paladin here. Where has he gone?" Kaonus yelled into the face of the necromancer. "Speak quickly!"

The necromancer snickered and then choked on his own blood. "Your precious friend was a fool. Not only did he run into our most fortified stronghold, he did it alone." The ugly man spat in Kaonus's face and laughed hoarsely. Kaonus took him by the throat, lifted him up and slammed him against a tree.

"Solwein," Kaonus called out. A positively scary looking paladin rounded the tree he was leaning against and approached the two. He stopped to the left of Kaonus and stood still and silent.

"This one requires a little persuasion. You were always better at this sort of thing." Kaonus said. Solwein nodded and immediately jabbed his knuckles into the necromancers sternum. It wasn't so much a punch as it was a piercing blow. His hand slowly sunk through the skin into the necromancers gut and took hold of something.

"With this hand of mine and the power of the holy light, I can send you straight to hell at this very moment and leave your rotting corpse for the rest of the Scourge. You will tell us what you know, if I have to wrench the memories from your torn soul."

"Hah! A paladin toying with ones soul? You won't do anything of the sort. It's against your code, is it not?" Solwein twisted his hand and the necromancer screamed in agony.

"Release him," Said Solwein. Kaonus let the necromancer fall and Solwein caught him by whatever he was holding on to inside his body. The Necromancer convulsed from the pain. Solwein let him down to the ground.

The smirk that he had worn earlier was now a hateful grimace. "The fool is one of the Scourge now." Solwein narrowed his eyes at the necromancer's words. "Elaborate before I do something unthinkable to you." Solwein snarled. "The fool stormed Stratholme, our most fortified stronghold, alone! What do you think happened to him?" Laughed the necromancer.

"If you are lying, I will exhaust every spec of magic in my body on you. I will slowly tear away at your very existence until you are nothing but a broken husk, much like the ghouls of your army. So help me if you are lying, I will take you apart." Solwein yelled.

"Go and ask 'him' for yourself. He waits for you in Stratholme. He watches you always and has been anticipating your arrival ever since you crossed into these plaguelands," Said the necromancer.

"Who?" Solwein demanded. "Hadeshorn," breathed the necromancer as he died. Solwein threw the limp body on the ground and walked quickly past Kaonus, who followed right behind him.

"We seek the one called Hadeshorn." Solwein said to his brother. Not another word was spoken for a long time as the two and their legion marched for Stratholme. The state of the land was worse than either of them had imagined. The stench of the plague was in the air, and the taint of the Scourge was all over the ground. Both of them were very angry about the state of the northern kingdoms and their men had been especially obedient as of late for no one who knew them would dare defy them when they were pissed off.

And so on they marched to the east, following the road and then veering south to avoid a conflict at Corin's Crossing. They then rounded north and found the road again to the north east of the crossing. On they marched for the rest of the day until the darkened sky grew even darker, signaling that night had fallen.

Solwein gave the signal to halt in front of an archway. That arch was the entry way to Stratholm's domain. The haze still blocked their view, but Solwein's gift of magic allowed him to see farther than the haze. Up ahead was a winding path through a number of Scourge entrenchments. Solwein motioned for Kaonus to step aside with him.

"The road ahead is the one leading to Stratholm's gates. As we both expected, they have dug in and prepared for our arrival and I think it's safe to say that we can't just charge in," Solwein said.

"At the very least, I think we should camp for the night and attack when we're a little fresher. We've been marching for days with little rest and the troops can't be tired when we storm the city," Kaonus replied.

"I agree we should camp for the night. Since the Scourge doesn't sleep, we won't gain any advantage by attacking at night, but I don't think we will have to assault the gates. We may be able to bypass them altogether."

Kaonus cocked an eyebrow in curiosity. "Do tell, brother."

"I haven't been to Stratholme since my first days as an adept, so correct me if ever I'm wrong. Being a death knight and a commander among the Scourge, Hadeshorn is bound to be as far from the entrance as possible as to make best use of his undead minions, putting him either at Crusaders' Square or the keep sector. I heard from the messenger that there were survivors holding out from within the city and I'm almost certain that they are in Crusaders' Square."

"Now, the entrance to the gates is a long bridge over the mote and one portcullis on each side of the entry way and then the gates which lead into King's Square. Ironically, this works to our advantage even though the city is lost. This long narrow straightaway bottlenecks them into a group that you and I should be able to manage, long enough to get to the gates anyway."

"But say we get to the portcullises, somehow ram them down with rams we don't have, and charge head first into the square. What then? We would have to advance through half the city just to get to the objective that we don't know the location of, never mind getting out. That's not only a huge gamble, but we don't have the equipment or man power for it."

"If we end up finding the survivors in Crusaders' Square, then we'll know that the death knight is in the keep sector. If Hadeshorn is in Crusaders' Square, then we have just saved a whole lot of time. In the event of the former, we need to enlist the help of the survivors in order to gain the man power needed to assault the death knight. On the matter of the gates, I didn't say we would ram them. I said we would bypass them," Solwein explained.

Luckily for us, there is another way in; the service entrance. If we can create a diversion at the gates, it would give our legion time to get through the service entrance and create a pincer attack. The Scourge is a mindless mass and will pile up at the entrances, thus making it impossible to close the portcullis's. That is how we will bypass them. Once pincer meets in the middle, we can start shifting towards Crusaders' Square and meet with the survivors to bolster our forces and then make preparations to push all the way to the keep," Solwein exclaimed.

"That's still a lot of assumptions," Kaonus said. "Can we even be sure the survivors are still there? What happens if we find them dead? Then we become the survivors and it is likely that we will meet the same fate."

"I agree that this is a big risk, but we must remember why we came here, to find out what Arkhel's task was and to bring retribution to his killer. We and our soldiers have come this far. It would almost be dishonorable to turn back."

Kaonus paused and pondered for a moment and then spoke bluntly. "I don't like the situation, but I agree with what you say. We must not fail here. Let's do it."

Solwein nodded slowly. "Let's inform the legion and make camp then."

That night, Solwein didn't sleep again. He was sitting outside his tent, sword in hand, staring at the black sky. _I wish I could see the stars._ Kaonus, unable to sleep either, exited his tent and sat beside Kaonus on the ground and looked to the sky as well. Neither of them said a word for a long time. Solwein's mind wandered as he stared into the black oblivion.

_Why did you come here master? Why couldn't you tell us and why did you go alone? Are we not trustworthy enough; or perhaps we aren't good enough? Are we going to die tomorrow? _Questions continued to run through Solwein's mind as his stomach lurched again from the plagued air.

"Solwein," Kaonus said. Solwein looked over at his brother who was struggling to speak. "Do you... do you think we'll make it through this?" Kaonus said quietly.

"Come now, Kaonus. How many times have we defied death in battle. Unless you know something I don't, in which case you had better speak up, this is only a little different than what we've been doing for years. Why so apprehensive?"

"This is so different. We've never faced anything like this. We've never faced a match for Arkhel. I would gladly die in the service of the light, but I don't think I could handle losing you," Kaonus uttered.

Solwein lowered his own head, humbled by his brothers consideration. All this time he had been thinking of how to prevent Arthas from accomplishing his goals, but never once had he thought of losing his brother. Solwein's thoughts sobered him. He reached for Kaonus's shoulder.

"Watch my back then and make sure nothing gets the jump on me. I'll do the same for you. Together we will beat this death knight and bring the light back to Stratholme." Solwein said in a deceptively proud and confident voice. This seemed to console Kaonus a little and Solwein felt better. _I just hope I'm right about the survivors. I just hope I'm right._

The two sat there for some time before returning inside and resting in their bed rolls. When morning came, they dressed in their armor in silence. When they were both ready, they left the tent and found the legion waiting for them outside, ready to go.

Not a word was spoken, as was commonly the case when the 20th marched to battle. For Kaonus, it was the anticipation of battle and his thoughts that he often lost himself in that kept him quiet. For Solwein, it was a deep meditation in which he focused his power and prepared to bring ruin to whatever enemy stood before him.

On they marched up the road until they came to the split up point. Solwein turned to the soldier he had chosen, Bartleby Toombs. "You know the way, First Sergeant Toombs," Solwein asked. "Aye sir. See you in King's square," Toombs replied.

Solwein handed him a key and the legion trailed off to the east along the hills to enter the service entrance. Once they were out of sight, the two paladins looked at each other, then forward, and then drew their swords. The stagnant air around them started to move and the undead just out of sight up ahead started to shuffle.

The holy energy coming from both of them was unsettling to the corrupted environment. They closed their eyes and prepared their unparalleled power for the big push to Stratholme. Then, they opened their eyes, and charged into the Scourge's gauntlet.

Immediately they were confronted by banshees who screamed a horrible scream. This was the best move the Scourge could make. Even a paladin of the light will be affected by the banshees wail. Stunned, they slowed their pace and the banshees dispersed to make way for ghouls and skeletons, escorted by several stitched flesh golems. Each of the abominations dual wielded cleavers and a third hand on their backs held a large hook, eliminating the possibility of getting behind them. The brothers regained some of their composure and braced for contact.

As the front closed in on the paladins, Solwein struck the ground hard with his boot and summoned holy fire from the dirt, searing the Scourge as it had in Hilsbrad. The banshee's screamed again and Solwein barely evaded a ghouls attack. Instinctively, he punched the ghoul in the chest, breaking the ribs, and then spun around for a quick and powerful counter-attack.

Next was one of the golems, but the banshee's wail was taking its toll on Solwein. He wasn't ready. The golem slammed the cleaver in its right hand into the ground beside Solwein. _We're lucky they are so clumsy, but we can't rely on that for long. _"Kaonus!" he yelled. "Fight right beside me and let's clear a path to the banshees in the back." Kaonus barged through a few skeletons to get to Solwein's side and the two of them leaped at the abomination. The horror blocked with its great cleaver and threw them back to the ground. They rolled in opposite directions in an attempt to divide the thing's attention. It went after Solwein.

Kaonus got to his feet quickly and cut down a skeletal mage as it prepared a frost bolt. He then came at the golems side and plunged his sword into where its kidney should have been. The lumbering undead staggered and relented a little on Solwein. Solwein then got to his feet and sliced the things throat, ending it for good.

Once again the banshee's hoarse cry pierced their ears and slowed them. Back on the defensive, they prepared an explosive burst of holy magic and then blasted it on all directions, buying them a crucial moment to advance forward.

The banshees fell further back behind the horde of Scourge in front of the paladins and screeched again. "We cannot allow the banshees to affect us this way or we won't make it through," Solwein cried over the chaos. "Worry not little brother. I brought a trump card!" Kaonus shouted back. From the pouch on his right hip, he pulled a vial of water.

_Holy water! Excellent Kaonus! _Kaonus smashed the vial on his hand and whispered briefly into his palms before closing his fist. Just as the Scourge prepared to smash into them from the front, Kaonus opened his hand with his palm to the front. The result was holy light that dispersed into different colors through the water. The Scourge stopped in place and cowered from the holy prism and Solwein took advantage.

He furiously plowed the road with sword and magic and all his righteous fury. Two at a time his enemies fell and then in clusters from his holy explosions and consecration. Solwein gutted a hulking flesh golem and then beheaded a ghoul. Ghosts encircled the two paladins, attempting to restrain them. Solwein closed his eyes momentarily and focused for an exorcism. "Back to the nether, fiends!" he shouted and the ghosts dissipated into nothingness. The paladins were at last coming closer to the banshees, rushing through scores of Scourge in true paladin style. Hordes became groups and groups became pairs, until a truly chilling voice split the battle.

"Make way, warriors of the Scourge. I will handle these insects." _Insects? _Solwein thought. "Clear the way damn you; I want to see my prey." The Scourge backed away from a befuddled and offended Solwein and a livid Kaonus. "Insects?" the brothers said together in outrage.

Before them floated a being so ghastly that even Solwein would have flinched, were it not for his burning desire to annihilate who ever had called him an insect.

The bone lich wore fine purple robes that had been slashed to tatters and jeweled at the waist and chest with rubies. On its shoulders was a mantle befitting a lord, were it not supporting a skull with razor sharp teeth, horns and glowing red eyes. To complete the terrifying visage, a helix of magical chains encircled the lich, presumably binding it to its master.

"You've nerve calling us insects, lich!" Kaonus growled, staring the lich down. "Damn it all Kaonus, don't look at his face!" Solwein bellowed, but it was too late. Kaonus fell to the ground, paralyzed and helpless. "Curse you, lich," Solwein snarled.

"I know you don't really care, but I do have a name. It's Sak'Muatz. I would have you call me by name as I steal your soul." Sak'Muatz lunged for Solwein, taking hold of him by the throat. He was instantly blasted back by a spark of holy energy.

"As if it were that easy you fool! Even by touching me you evoke my holy wrath. You will lose, wicked wretch," Solwein shouted through gritted teeth.

"Insolent bastard!" roared Sak'Muatz as he hurled shadow magic at Solwein. The indistinct shadow coiled around Solwein, constricting him. Solwein began using his power to heal himself and each canceled the other out. Solwein stared at the Sak'Muatz hands and dodged the next coil.

Solwein made a quick move to get closer to the lich, but Sak'Muatz anticipated him and threw a shadow bolt at him, knocking him back and corrupting his skin. Solwein attacked the corruption with cleansing magic and again the effect was mitigated. Now Solwein was still, waiting to react to whatever Sak'Muatz would do next.

"Become one of us," Sak'Muatz muttered with a grin. A cloud of what looked like dust flew into Solwein's face, but seemed to have no effect. Sak'Muatz only smiled. "What was that, lich? Hoping I'll sneeze myself to death?" Solwein laughed. Sak'Muatz just smiled.

Solwein leapt forward with a mighty blow. Sak'Muatz dodged and swiped with his bony claws and connected only with plate armor. As fast as he landed, Solwein's sword flew into Sak'Muatz's lower half, slicing the already torn robes, but hitting no bones. Solwein quickly swung his sword at Sak'Muatz's torso, only to have his sword caught and wrenched away.

_Blast! How did he do that? _Solwein thought. Sak'Muatz sniggered. Solwein focused his energy into a hammer shape in his right hand and hurled it at the lich. This time he connected, and the damage was done. The smart grin on Sak'Muatz's face had gone and his left arm had been crushed.

Seeing opportunity, Solwein made a dash for his sword. Upon retrieving it, he prepared to finish the fight, but stopped. All of a sudden, his heart began to beat very hard and very fast. Excruciating pain shot through his body from head to toe. The feeling in his limbs began to retreat to his torso and then to one central point in his chest.

"What sorcery is this?" Solwein gasped as he fell to one knee. Sak'Muatz grinned evilly as he magically rebuilt his arm. "That is the feeling of undeath setting in. As we speak, your soul is being imprisoned within you and soon, it will be made to fight for us." _No... _"Ah, you've figured it out. The look on your face says it all. But worry not; you won't be one of these mindless ones. I have bigger plans for you," Sak'Muatz said.

"How? What have you done to me?" Solwein said a little more desperately than he would have liked. "Remember that wise little comment about sneezing yourself to death?" Sak'Muatz said. "That dust was actually plague spores. Not this pollen in the air you breathe, but the living taint that will soon swallow this world." Sak'Muatz smiled wide. "Starting with you, Solwein of Lordaer..." Sak'Muatz stopped mid-sentence as his head was severed by a golden glowing blade.

"How 'dare' you address Solwein of Lordaeron?!" Kaonus said in a troubled voice. "Kaonus! Exorcise him quickly before he reforms his body!" Solwein yelled. Kaonus's fist glowed golden like his sword and he punched the stirring lich, decimating the remains into dust. Sak'Muatz was no more.

With the immediate threat defeated, Solwein then realized just how bad the situation still was. "Make it stop Kaonus. My body is numb so you must do the cleansing. Hurry up!" Solwein screamed in a panic. Kaonus rushed to Solwein and began the cleansing process.

Feeling started to return to Solwein's lower torso and then to his limbs. "It won't go away. The cleansing magic isn't working," Kaonus said. "It's the nature of the plague. The fel energy won't allow it to simply be cleaned, so I will need an experienced alchemist to kill the plague that is in my blood right now."

Kaonus looked worried. "Oh not to worry my dear brother," Said Solwein cheerfully. "Until we get back to civilization, I can keep it at bay myself. I only need an alchemist to kill it once and for all." Kaonus's face didn't change.

"Look, we don't have time for this right now. We need to hurry to the gates to meet up with the legion. Quickly, let's go." Solwein jumped to his feet and sprinted down the path with Kaonus close behind. Shortly thereafter, the gates of Stratholme came into view.

The army was gargantuan. Ghosts, ghouls, corpses, banshees, zombies, flesh golems, and even dragons stared them in the face. The bulk of the northern Scourge forces were formed and completely focused on those two paladins. The odds were preposterous.

_Perfect. _And then gunfire erupted from behind the Scourge and the sounds of battle could be heard from the city. _Absolutely perfect!_ "Well big brother, are we going to let the troops have all the fun today?" Solwein mused. But Kaonus had already charged.

With all his power, Solwein followed suit and blasted his way into the front lines with his divine empowered blade. Scores of Scourge fell at once to his onslaught and then came the golems. There were many of them this time, but ironically, their size and numbers made them clumsy and in their attempts to get at Solwein and Kaonus all at once, they crowded around one another. Solwein took advantage and slashed one across the belly and then another at the knees. He leapt high in the air and stabbed a drake in the chest. Using his hilt as a hand hold, with the grace of the gods he flipped himself up and onto the rotten dragon's wing and stabbed a decayed spot in its neck to avoid the tough scales before leaping towards the next golem and decapitating it on his way back down to the ground.

The brick floor beneath him cracked upon impact as he consecrated it, setting two more golems and a handful of smaller Scourge ablaze. A golem took a swing at him with its cleaver, which he easily dodged. He spun around and sliced a ghoul and a skeleton in half with one strike and then rolled behind the golem. His hand glowed blue and he punched through its rotting flesh and took hold of the spine, which Solwein swiftly ripped from the construct. Another drake swooped in low and breathed fire at the brothers. _I can't get to the jugular on this one so its scales will protect it. This calls for a different weapon. _Solwein sprinted to the side to avoid the blaze and formed a hammer of holy magic in his left hand. Wielding both the hammer and the sword he continued to fend off the Scourge as he waited for the dragon to fly in again. When it did, Solwein hurled his hammer at the drakes face, completely sundering the rotting flesh and scales.

"Keep it up brother! I can see the legion in the back and they are doing well. We have a solid chance to win this thing," Kaonus yelled over the chaos.

Suddenly, the city lit up with a golden glow in the direction of Crusaders' Square. "Brilliant! The forces holding out here have entered the fray," Solwein said to Kaonus. "The Scourge doesn't stand a chance now that they fight a battle on three fronts."

The battle raged for hours. Slowly but surely the Scourge forces dwindled and at the other end of the square, Solwein could see that his legion had met up with the resistance. "Let's finish this, Kaonus!" Solwein cried out.

With eyes of gold and the strength of titans, the brothers furiously slaughtered the undead Scourge. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, they plowed the road towards their allies. But when they finally got there, the outcome was not at all what they expected.

The three on one battle had suddenly become a battle royal. The forces of Stratholme, garbed in tabards and chain of scarlet, were fighting both the Scourge and the 20th legion.

"What are you doing? We're on your side!" Kaonus screamed at the top of his lungs while dodging a skeletal mage-lord's fire ball.

"You carry the taint of the undead. The Scarlet Crusade will purge you from our city and then the rest of the world. All who oppose the crusade will die!" came a voice from the scarlet mob.

"This is madness! We have come to aid you. Destroy the Scourge!" Solwein cried. But it was no use. The Scarlet Crusade continued to cut down the men of the 20th legion, each blow bringing pain to Solwein's heart.

"Fall back, 20th! Get out of the city! Fall back!" Solwein shouted as loud as he could. The men began their retreat only to meet more Scourge from behind.

_Damn. The Scourge must have been counting on the fact that we knew nothing about the Scarlet Crusade. This is bad. _"Hurry brother. We must break through to aid our men," Solwein called to Kaonus. "Aye. Let's make short work of these peons and get to them.

The brothers stomped their feet together and consecrated a large area to buy a few precious moments to charge their holy energy. With a deafening shout, they charged forward, battering anything they came into contact with. Shortly after, they found themselves reunited with their men, and now fighting two enemies.

"Sir," called out Bartleby. "They just started shouting about how we carry the taint of undeath. I don't know what they are talking about, but at this rate, we won't survive."

"We have no choice; we must withdraw," Solwein called back. "The service entrance has been cut off. We have no way out. This was a trap from the start!" Bartleby shouted.

"If the service entrance is routed, we must make out way back out the front," Kaonus yelled. As he said it, the portcullises on both sides of the tunnel slammed shut. "Damn it!" Kaonus cried.

_The situation is getting hopeless. Think Solwein. Think! _As Solwein fought off scores of Scourge and tried to come up with a plan, a bright light flashed behind them, sending upwards of forty Scourge flying in all directions.

"By the light! Did you see that?" Kaonus asked as he barely dodged a shadow bolt from a necromancer. "What was that? I've never seen such holy might," Solwein replied. The light flashed again, and this time, Solwein spotted a man he didn't know in the momentary clearing.

"This way!" called the man. "This way to holy ground. This way to safe haven," yelled the man as he stomped his foot and blasted the undeath out of more Scourge. _Holy ground. To think that holy ground could exist in a place like this. Who is this man?_

At the moment, the tiny list of options was the primary topic on Solwein's mind, so without thinking further into it, Solwein issued the order. "Rally on the fighter at the entrance tunnel to Elders' Square!" he roared over the fight. His troops began the push to the north while the paladins trailed behind, eradicating anything that got close.

The 20th legions numbers were growing thin. The battle had not gone as Solwein had planned and now that they were trapped and dwindling, Solwein felt regretful.

_It was foolish to come here. Arkhel didn't intend for this to happen. Why the hell did he come here?_

"Solwein. The advance is slow and we are losing many men. I will go to the other side and help with the forward push," said Kaonus. "Good luck brother. See you on holy ground," Solwein yelled back.

As Kaonus disappeared into the troops, a new type of enemy entered the fray. This one was unusually creative for the Scourge. An undead giant's skeleton rounded the western corner from Market Row into King's Square. It wore no armor and wielded a gigantic battle axe.

Before Solwein could prepare himself, the giant leaped high into the air with unnatural agility and cleaved the ground into directly beside Solwein, taking out several Scourge and living troops alike. _Bloody hell. That was lucky._

Not a moment after Solwein finished his thought, the skeleton spun around and attacked again, this time in a horizontal slash. Solwein ducked just in time for it to miss him.

Solwein countered with a shock bolt of raw holy mana. The ball of energy lashed into the giants face and it staggered back for a moment before focusing back on Solwein. _I hate to sling mana around like that, but this is different. How can something so big move so quickly? _Again the giant raised its axe and plunged it down onto Solwein, who barely managed to conjure a shield spell to repel it. _I can't perform high level spells like this for much longer or I'll get to tired. I've got to find a weak point right now._

The giant heaved its axe high into the air again in preparation to destroy Solwein. The paladin dove forward, tucking and rolling closer to the giants feet. The blow missed behind Solwein by about two feet. Solwein scrambled up in his heavy armor and sprinted toward the giant in an effort to go between its legs.

Solwein looked up at the huge skeleton to find a bony foot bearing down on him. Solwein swiped at it with his sword to little avail and it crushed Solwein to the ground. He could feel his armor bending and squeezing his mid-section. The skeletal giant backed up one pace and again raised its axe.

Solwein's legs were broken and he was unable to stand. There would be no dodging this blow. The axe began its decent and Solwein, exhausting the better portion of the mana in his bloodstream conjured another shield to block it. The axe crashed on the holy shield and Solwein felt a small prick on his belly. Looking down his body, a small trickle of blood flowed from a cut on his navel. _That's all the shield I have in me._

With broken legs and no energy with which to use his sword or magic, Solwein just lied still, waiting for what he was sure to be inevitable. The giant heaved its axe high once more and smashed it down onto the ground. A deafening crash ensued and a nearby building lost its main support from the blow to the city streets. As the building crumbled many Scourge and legion forces were taken by the impact and a small crater formed where it had struck.

When the dust settled, Solwein found a figure standing over him. This man was unfamiliar to him using the same shield spell Solwein had. Solwein had never been happier to see anyone. Another took hold of his arm and attempted to help him up. "Run away, Kaonus. It took me two holy shields and most of my mana in its purest form to get this far. Don't be so reck-". The sting of Kaonus's slap manifested in Solwein's pride as much as it did in the right side of his face.

"How dare you just give up like that. That thing was about to destroy you and you were going to just let it happen. Weakling..." Kaonus spat. Solwein had never seen Kaonus like this before and as his big brother dragged him toward a small chapel in Elders' square. The push for holy ground had been successful. As the Scourge shuffled back away from the chapel's yard, the legion crammed inside the tiny building and Kaonus dragged Solwein inside.

In King's Square, Solwein saw the stranger that had saved him begin sprinting for the chapel. The paladin had somehow caused a great deal of damage to the bone giant and was going to make it back in time. The man crossed the fence line into the chapel grounds, to safety.

Kaonus immediately attacked Solwein's wounds with holy healing spells as did the stranger from before. In mere minutes, Solwein was able to stand up again and heal himself. The other two rushed around healing wounded legion troops.

Once Solwein was satisfied with his condition, he too started healing his troops. In the gaggle of worn out soldiers, Solwein found Bartleby Toombs, who was gravely wounded.

"How many men left First Sergeant?" Solwein asked tenderly. "Forty or so, sir," the battered and beaten man replied. _Forty... out of five-hundred. _"What is the Scarlet Crusade sir?" Bartleby asked.

"They are living, uninfected paladins of the Silver Hand, driven mad by the airborne plague. At least, that's the theory," replied the stranger from before. He was a strong man of average height. He had slightly longer blonde hair than the two brothers and a thick tramp beard and was clad in iron armor. In one hand he held an old, battle worn great sword. His other hand was balled into a fist, glowing with magical power.

"You... Who are you?" Solwein asked. "I am Aurius. I served the Silver Hand before the Scourge came to power," said Aurius. "Sir Aurius of Stratholme? I have heard your name before sir. What in the world are you doing here?" said Solwein.

Aurius didn't answer right away, but instead turned away and put his hands on his hips. After a few moments of awkward silence, he answered Solwein's question. "After this place was destroyed, I was captured by the scourge and taken to the necropolis known as Naxxramas. There I was tortured with steel and disease for some time. I can't say how long exactly, but it lasted until a few months ago. You see, a paladin had come to this city and the lich, Kel'Thuzad, decided that I was ready to serve him," Aurius explained.

Solwein was quickly growing suspicious of Aurius. Aurius turned to face him and picked up on this. "You don't trust me. I can't say I blame you, for I don't even trust myself anymore. The truth is, I know who you two are and I know why you came."

"The paladin who came here; what was his name?" Solwein demanded interrogatively. Aurius walked back to Solwein and knelt before him as to beg his forgiveness. "He was Sir Arkhel, the Glorious of the Silver Hand, and he was slain by my sword."

With lightning speed, Solwein drew his sword and plunged it into Aurius's back, but connected only with the wooden floor beneath him. Dumbfounded, Solwein attempted an exorcism and then consecrated the floor, sending the nearby legion troops scurrying to the corners of the building. Aurius remained unscathed and then faded into transparency.

"What are you?" Kaonus demanded. "What I meant to say was that I was once the man known as Aurius, and then the death knight known as Hadeshorn, but now I am only a remnant, a spirit that goes on only to make amends. I am bound to the scourge still as a wandering ghost, but I am also bound to the light and therefore am able to resist. However, were it not for your master, you two and I would be fighting as we speak." Aurius replied.

Solwein's expression softened a little. "And what did Arkhel do to you when he was here?" he asked Aurius. "He fought me. The battle was fierce and my minions were many. He cut them down in droves, his holy magic lit up the darkened skies and the aura around him almost spoke for itself. It said to me in my fallen state: 'Retribution'. Yes the battle was fierce indeed and were it not for the way in which death knights cheat death, he would have finished me in short order. Here in Elders' Square, after days of fighting with this unimaginably powerful foe, I struck a grievous blow and he fell to the ground. With a voice that was not my own, I taunted him. He laughed and then with his final breath he did two things. The first thing he did was bless the ground with all the strength left in him. As you know, the scourge may not set foot on holy ground and so I was painfully purified and left here in the form you see now."

Solwein and Kaonus bowed their heads, finally getting closure. Solwein was visibly sad but his anger had subsided at the story of his valiant master. "And the second thing?" he asked.

"He told me that you two would come and he asked me to pass his last message to you. He said to me that when Uther the Light Bringer died, he inherited his title. He also said to tell you two when you arrived that there is a weapon here whom only the Light Bringer may wield and that with it, the Light Bringer could save the world." said Aurius.

"What do you mean he 'inherited the title of Light Bringer? It is only a title and he was Arkhel the Glorious. One does not simply change their surname as it is something chosen for them by superiors in relevance to their deeds," Solwein exclaimed.

Aurius looked up at Solwein. "No my boy. The title of Light Bringer is more than just a surname. It is a duty given to the one who is closest to the light and now we don't know who the new Light Bringer is. He has tasked you, through me, to find the weapon and the Light Bringer. Where he has failed, you must succeed."

Solwein pensively took it all in. It was visibly a bit much for Kaonus, but Solwein was able to grasp the concept, though it wasn't easy to swallow. "And what exactly is this weapon. As it's keeper, I would guess that you know where it is," said Solwein.

Suddenly the dull roar of the undead outside subsided. "Paladins of Lordaeron, you have come far and I know why you have come. Come out of your hiding place and take it from me, if you dare," came a hollow and raspy voice from the city streets.

Solwein and Kaonus peered out a window to find a fully armored death knight on a skeletal charger. He was garbed in a heavy, ebon suit of armor and wielded a long sword imbued with necro runes. From behind his ghastly helmet, two blood red eyes could be seen and on top of his banner pole was a helmet, a helmet that the brothers instantly recognized as their masters.

A violent aura filled the room as Solwein and Kaonus continued to stare at the gruesome visage challenging them. "That is baron Rivendare and he holds the weapon you seek. Though he cannot wield it, it stays on his person at all times and he binds it there with chains under his breast plate, just as I did," Aurius replied. "How do we defeat him?" Kaonus asked coldly. "The weakness of a death knight is not easy to reach. In order to beat Rivendare, you will need to heal him," Aurius replied.

"Heal? That is too simple," Solwein interrupted. "To think that my master was struck down by a being with such an obvious weakness is beyond my belief."

"You are correct young one, for it is not his body that you must heal, it is his soul. A death knight has been destroyed in body and mind and to repair either is futile. But a soul is not so easily vanquished. Your master understood this and when he sanctified the chapel grounds, he meant to cleanse my tortured soul within my body. But when one is transformed into a death knight, one is paired with a demon steed, like the one you see out the window," Aurius explained.

"I will not wait long paladins. Unlike the traitor Aurius, you and your men can waste away in this place. If you wish to die with honor, step before me," called Rivendare outside. "Quickly Aurius; what is the secret to defeating the baron?" Solwein said.

"I was getting to that. Upon uniting with his steed, a death knights soul is split in two between the demon horse and the original body to better protect it from purifying forces. You must purify both at the same time in order to reunite them and set the soul free, a monumental task."

As Aurius finished his explanation, he gracefully sat down on an empty bench awaiting a reply from Solwein and Kaonus. After a long silence and another outburst from Rivendare, Solwein spoke up.

"Aurius..." Solwein said at last. Aurius said nothing. "I cannot forgive you for the transgression upon me that you have made, but as you are a spirit on holy ground, holy law and my code of honor forbids me from taking vengeance on you." Solwein stopped a moment and thought carefully about how to speak his mind. "Were I not a man of the light and were I not bound by my honor and were I not a bringer of justice, I would ensure that you burn in hell this very day," he said coldly. "But you see, I am a man of the light and I am bound by my honor. This day you have given me the key to finishing what my master started and for that I am grateful."

Aurius closed his eyes as though he had been waiting for such a statement. "I wish that I could help you further, for my sins are of the greatest caliber and I too wish to see the world saved, but Rivendare knows that I have no power outside this holy ground and so you must face this threat alone," said Aurius.

Solwein walked to the door followed by Kaonus and he swung it open to reveal himself to the death knight. "We must purify both halves of the soul at the same time, so this will have to be a defensive battle. It won't be easy so stay on your toes. That thing out there is a new kind of evil and I'm sure you can sense the hunger it has for us," Solwein said darkly.

"Aye, I can feel it. Can't imagine how great men fall so far, but I suppose it doesn't make a great deal of difference at this point," Kaonus replied. "We will do as best we can, and in the end I know the light will prevail, as it always has."

"I'm not so sure brother. The righteous forces of our time are slowly fading away. I don't know if there will be another to replace us," Solwein said.

Kaonus looked at his brother who was staring at the cold and broken man just outside the chapel's yard. With a heavy sigh and a fateful tone, Kaonus uttered a phrase that would stick with Solwein for the remainder of his life. "Then we must not fail, my dear brother."

Solwein blinked slowly, cherishing his brothers voice. He was feeling particularly fond of him at the moment and longed for the moment to last longer. But it didn't last long at all, for the destruction and corruption all around him drove his boots forward toward the streets. Kaonus followed closely behind, cracking his knuckles and neck.


	12. Chapter 11: Your Opponents Are Two

Solwein approached the streets and stopped short at the edge of the chapel's grounds. The visage of the dark warrior was intense and almost seemed to burn into Solwein's mind as he stared. But, unlike the lich, this new foe would be stared down by Solwein's famous thousand yard stare, one that was said to chill the bones of any force of evil. But this time the enemy did not cower or flee. This new foe didn't even crack an arrogant grin or a mocking laugh. _How very sad._

"As soon as I exit these grounds I will tear you to pieces, traitor," yelled Kaonus through the now almost silent streets. Solwein put a hand up to quiet Kaonus.

"Who are you?" Solwein asked calmly. "Don't patronize me, paladin. I left that name and the way of the all mighty paladin behind. The power I possess now is a colossus when compared to your parlor tricks," Rivendare spat.

Solwein's face twitched ever so slightly at being called a conjurer of cheap _tricks, _but lashing out at Rivendare wouldn't help them in this fight. In Solwein's mind, the impending battle was one that would decide if the light or the dark was superior. Though not the absolute greatest of champions, his brother Kaonus would be representing the holy light and so would he. For that purpose, Solwein was unwilling to provide Rivendare with any other weapons against them than what he already had. Solwein continued to stare.

"Do you plan on facing me or not? Decide now or I shall leave you for the masses. I have no patience for indecisive folk," Rivendare said. "Or I could lure the Scarlet Crusade to Elders' Square. Not only do they possess enough men to overrun you, they also can tread on holy ground. So why don't I just get them to kill you for me?"

"Tell me who you are, and I will step off of holy ground and face you in your domain. On my honor, I swear it. Simply tell me who you are," Solwein said quietly.

"Your honor eh? Only a paladin is foolish enough to swear on something as grey as honor. Who says what you are doing is so right anyway. Death is a release from mortal tendencies like eating, sleeping and feeling pain. Death is immortality! Why would one not want immortality?"

"It is purgatory! Nothing more and nothing less." Kaonus replied. "If you think for even a moment that you can turn us to your side, think again Rivendare. Solwein may show compassion for the enemy, but I do not. You are no match for us and you will lose this coming strife and that is because you are an instrument of something foul. Only the holy light can grant one immortality, and it has not done so since the age of the titans thousands of years ago. Death is not worldly immortality. It is a change of scenery for the soul and the soul should never be held against its will," Kaonus said powerfully.

Rivendare hesitated, though only for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Solwein picked up on this. _This poor man._

"You speak nonsense. You say that only the light can provide immortality and yet here I stand before you, impervious to steel, learned in magic and unaffected by the needs of man. You are blind, holy knight," Rivendare said in a cool, confident manner.

"As a former paladin, you know that honor to a paladin is held to the greatest degree. You know full well that I will do what I say if you tell me what your name is," Solwein growled through clenched teeth.

"If you're wondering if I am your late master, wonder no more for I am not Arkhel. The old man made it impossible to resurrect him so he was given to the ghouls," Rivendare mused maliciously.

"Silence!" Solwein shouted. "I ask you for your name before we kill you for good. One last time, death knight; what is your name?"

Rivendare said nothing. "So be it. You have brought this on yourself," Kaonus said, lunging off of holy ground and then leaping toward Rivendare. He drew his claymore in a flash and sliced vertically at Rivendare, who blocked with his own blade just as quickly. _Kaonus you fool._

Solwein had hoped that the fight would have been fought on his terms, but Kaonus's recklessness, as usual, had changed his plans. Instinctively, Solwein moved in on Rivendare's horse, hoping to get one good stroke in to weaken it before the purification. Rivendare heaved Kaonus off and reared his horse, forcing Solwein to back off.

The paladins consecrated the ground at the same time, creating a more fervent flame to burn Rivendare. The horse reared on its own this time and scrambled away from the flames.

Rivendare swung his long sword in front of him, sending a shadow in Solwein's direction. The shadow coiled around Solwein and then bound his arms at his side. Rivendare started at the momentarily incapacitated Solwein.

Kaonus moved between them in an attempt to protect his brother and his blade began to glow gold. He issued Rivendare a powerful strike and this time Rivendare wasn't able to block. Instead, a black veil of dark energy surrounded him, stopping Kaonus in his tracks.

By now Solwein had dissolved the death coil and moved around to flanking position. Whispering a holy chant, Solwein blasted the off guard death knight with holy lightning, creating a shockwave centered around Rivendare. The death knight barely faltered and quickly counter attacked.

Solwein dodged the slash and thrust his sword forward at the dark steed, which Rivendare blocked. The death knight reared his horse again and backed away, swirling his sword in the air and then swiping it at Kaonus. A miniature storm of ice crystals formed around him and plunged into his flesh.

Kaonus immediately started healing. Solwein began to swirl his own blade in the air, creating a storm of holy energy. At last he had connected. Rivendare's flesh seared from the holy storm and he fell from his horse. Solwein moved as fast as he could to pin Rivendare, but was instead kicked by the dread charger into the city wall.

Kaonus ceased his healing spell and sliced at the charger and then spun around for a second assault only to be bitten by the things sharp teeth. Rivendare had risen to his feet and gone after Solwein, who lay dazed against the wall. Kaonus scrambled to get to Rivendare, but was cut off by the horse.

Rivendare walked quickly to where Solwein lay and plunged his fist into his chest, corrupting and decaying Solwein's breast plate. Solwein gasped for air and the veins in his neck turned purple. Rivendare then turned to Kaonus, leaving Solwein to turn.

"You see, Kaonus of Lordaeron, the darkness is all powerful. You barge into my domain, fight and lose against my armies and then presume to be a match for me? Your arrogance will be your undoing, as you can clearly see," Rivendare sneered.

Kaonus stomped the ground and conjured holy fire that licked at the chargers feet. It went left to avoid the flames, so Kaonus went around it to the right and leaped again at Rivendare.

His sword crashed against Rivendare's above his head and then Rivendare countered low at his legs. Kaonus jumped to avoid it and elbowed Rivendare in his metal mask. Kaonus then kicked him in the stomach, sending him backwards to the ground.

The demon horse charged Kaonus who leapt backward and dodged the charge. He heaved his sword high and attempted to cut Rivendare in half, but Rivendare rolled right and dodged it. The horse stopped and snorted before running at Kaonus again. This time Kaonus spun around and successfully connected with the horses neck.

The steed simply reared up, unperturbed at the gaping wound in its jugular. But of course there was no blood, for the animal had long been dead and was bound to undeath by half of Rivendare's soul. Rivendare had gotten to his feet. He whispered something to the runes in his sword, which glowed an eerie green at his words.

Suddenly, Kaonus felt an invisible hand grasp his entire body and yank him toward Rivendare. He stopped abruptly in front of him and almost lost his footing. Rivendare swung his sword at Kaonus's side. Kaonus almost blocked it, but it grazed his side through a gap in his armor.

It was only a glancing blow, but Kaonus felt the burning necromantic magic that was now inside his body. He shuffled back and away from Rivendare and blocked an over head swing. Kaonus conjured holy mana, formed it into a hammer in his right hand and smashed Rivendare's helmet with it.

The death knight staggered back and stood still, glaring angrily at Kaonus with his now exposed face. It wasn't rotten like the rest of the scourge, but still grey and lifeless. White hair hung down to his shoulders. His eyes were cold and black with red pupils in the middle and a fine, black velvet scarf covered his mouth, giving him a roguish, yet aristocratic look.

"Kel'Thuzad gave me that helm, rat," Rivendare growled at Kaonus as he purged himself of his infection. "And now I've taken it away. But my work isn't done, death knight. I'll be walking away with that nice scarf you're wearing when we're done here," Kaonus said antagonistically.

Rivendare roared furiously and let loose a barrage of shadow bolts at Kaonus. The paladin gracefully dodged the balls of magic and scraped his sword on the ground as he charged the death knight. Rivendare answered in kind and the two met with a deafening crash of steel against steel. Kaonus heaved his sword high, as did Rivendare and they each swung for the other, both catching their opponent by the wrist.

The dead lock was dangerous. Kaonus, locked in a struggle already, was very vulnerable to attack in his current position due to the now unopposed death charger. This was usually the point in which the other paladin would defend him, but with Solwein down for the count, Kaonus began to realize just how alone he was in this fight now.

For the first time, the skeletal horse lowered its head and charged with its horns. It's speed had increased, almost as though it had been given a boost somehow. Regardless of why, Kaonus now had a decision to make. Either take a hit from a charger or taste more of the scourges magic. Neither appealed to Kaonus.

Acting instinctively, he chose to avoid the magic, for he remembered all too well Solwein's plague. His brother was sick and now badly injured, and he intended to see him home in one piece. Kaonus shifted his legs, bracing for the impact and attempted to put Rivendare on the business end. He successfully overpowered Rivendare and turned his own charger against him. Both bodies went flying, each thudding just as hard as the other against the rampart wall.

A few of Kaonus's ribs were broken and he was slow to rise. The death knight, seemingly undaunted, beat Kaonus to his feet and put his sword to Kaonus's throat. "You see, paladin? You two are champions of the holy light," Rivendare said condescendingly. "And you fought with all your might, holding nothing back and fighting in true paladin style. But I still beat you. In the end, your efforts were in vein because I still beat you!"

Rivendare smirked madly. "I will admit, what you could do you did without flaw. Yes indeed, you fought tooth and nail, but unfortunately for you, you are only two men." Rivendare pointed to the scourge spectators surrounding them. "You see that?" he yelled. "That is my strength. Behind me is a colossal army of immortal soldiers. They give me strength through magic and tactic. Do you see it now?"

Rivendare moved close to Kaonus's face, never allowing his sword to drift away from the paladins neck. "You are two men with cheap parlor tricks, and I... Am... LEGION!" Rivendare roared. The scourge all around roared just as loud, shuddering the very city ground.

Rivendare took Kaonus by the arm and ripped his bracers from his body. He then threw away his own spiked gauntlet and plunged his fingers into Kaonus's exposed flesh and moved his face even closer to Kaonus's.

"You will now suffer the same fate as your dear brother." Rivendare snorted as he recoiled his fingers, hooking the outer layer of Kaonus's skin. Kaonus didn't make a sound or movement. He simply stared. Rivendare snorted.

"Two there were and now there is one. One is dead and the other is soon to follow. But don't worry, you won't be alone for long, for I welcome you, my final adversary, to my little circle of friends." Rivendare drew his sword back and prepared to strike the killing blow. He set his blade ablaze with magic and singed Kaonus's hair and eyebrows. The sword started forward before coming to a sudden stop.

"You're wrong, you son of a bitch," said an extremely troubled voice. "He is not alone. Your foes..." Solwein stuttered from the sting in his body. "...are two." Solwein moved closer to Rivendare's ear. "Paladins live together, fight together, and when the time comes, they die together." Kaonus smiled at Rivendare's pain. "You may have beaten our master, but your task is not finished. His students have come in his stead, and no filthy, smelly, deranged, depraved piece of dark-hound fodder like you is going to stop us!"

The silver claymore protruding from Rivendare's twisted, making the death knight writhe. _We must not fail._

Free again, Kaonus focused in on the charger, who seemed to be in the same pain as Rivendare. "Now is our chance brother!" Solwein called. Kaonus nodded and ran straight for the demon steed, plunging his fist into its midsection. It was much like the blow Solwein delivered to the necromancer for information, only this time, it was not to cause pain, but to end it.

"Benigno numine, beati pacifici, caelitus mihi vires quod meus mucro est vobis. Licentia vestri glacialis carcer quod complexo lux lucis. Ego vadum exsisto vestri rector," chanted the brothers in unison. Upon completion of the first chant, Rivendare and the charger alike began to stretch as though they were being wracked. A tiny crack appeared in their foreheads, revealing the bright light emanating from the paladin's hands.

Again the paladins chanted, increasing the size of the consecration on Rivendare's forehead and his charger's. "You will never win, dogs! The power of the Lich King is absolute and with Arthas as his champion, he will ravage this land of the living and bring Azeroth to ruin," Rivendare blared. The light emanated even brighter, creating a star-like beacon on both Rivendare and his horse. The paladin's chanted a third time, rapidly expanding the consecration down their necks. Then the paladins spoke in the common tongue, revealing the meaning behind the holy rhetoric.

"By the favor of the heavens, blessed are the peace makers, my strength is in heaven and my sword is for you. Leave your icy prison and embrace the light. I shall be your guide."

Rivendare wailed and the charger screeched unnaturally. Both floated out of the paladins hands and into the air where they began to spin slowly at first, then faster and faster. The two disintegrated into small white balls, which coagulated between Solwein and Kaonus. Once the two met and became one, it began its slow journey toward the chapel and their masters hallowed ground.

Remembering their mission, Kaonus looked on the ground to find a hilt with no blade and a heavy tome. He scrambled to get them before the scourge could.

Upon clenching the hilt and book, Kaonus immediately jumped up to meet the scourge that were sure to attack now that they were unbridled by their master, but the horde didn't attack. Instead, the scourge cowered and retreated away from the tranquil soul as it floated closer and closer to the chapel. Kaonus sheathed his weapon, hoisted Solwein up and followed the soul back to holy ground.

Their troops cheered and Aurius beamed. Through the thunderous roar of the scourge and the applause of their men, the paladins made not a sound nor gesture. As they crossed the threshold of the chapels grounds, both fell to their knees.

The legion troops eagerly helped them to complete the walk into the chapel, where the soul stopped at Aurius and then sunk into his chest. "Well done, paladins of the holy light," Aurius said, striding slowly toward them.

Solwein and Kaonus looked at each other and then at Aurius. "You were Rivendare," Solwein croaked. "No, I am Aurius. Always have been, and now thanks to you, I always will be. You see, my soul was not split in two, but in three. Your master fought me in my complete form and successfully separated all that was good from all that was evil within me, but he was only able to purify part of my soul before he succumbed to his wounds.

"Thus, I ceased to be Hadeshorn and the baron came into being and you two came along to finish what Arkhel started. Well done, holy warriors." Aurius continued to beam at the two.

Kaonus looked at the items he collected from Rivendare. The dusty tome was entitled _Codex Sanctus Lux._ "The code of the holy light," Kaonus said. Solwein leaned closer to see the tome. "I didn't think it existed. I'm almost nervous about opening it," Solwein said.

"Do not fear, for you are good men and the book will accept you." Aurius said. "What exactly do you mean 'accept us'?" Kaonus asked. "This isn't any old holy text, Kaonus of Lordaeron. This is the actual rules and regulations of the holy light, truly one of a kind. The light itself will only allow certain individuals to read it."

Kaonus opened the book to the first page and sure enough, there was nothing but a blank page. "There's nothing there. What do we have to do?" he asked. "Just be patient and see," replied Aurius.

The two brothers looked back at the book and text and pictures slowly began to fade in on the old parchment. "The light is omniscient and omnipotent. The light is in all places and all times. Whosoever is chosen to wield it is rather wielded by it, and shall be called the Light Bringer," Solwein read aloud in common speech.

"Within this book are secrets not written anywhere else and known only to a select few. This tome is going to help you find him or her and, in time, help them to bring the scourge down. With this book, you two and the light bringer will save the world.

Kaonus and Solwein looked at each other again, processing the task laid out before them. They breathed a deep sigh together and rose to their feet. "This is the way, the only way, isn't it?" Solwein asked Aurius. Surprisingly, Kaonus answered him instead.

"Yes brother, I think it is," Kaonus said, pausing for effect. "You and I have fought the minions of darkness for years now. Each one deserved the lights retribution for their crimes against humanity as much as the last, but here today, we have encountered something entirely different. Here we have seen the perversion of life and the enslavement of the soul. Here today we have seen a great giant who, despite his size and pride, was made to fight us against his will in a form that should never have come into being. Here today, we have suffered the flesh plague and now we are constantly fighting against it to not only stay alive, but keep from a fate worse than death. After what I've seen here, I think that the scourge is evil, very evil. In fact I may even go as far to say that it is all that evil is, nay, evil incarnate."

Solwein put a hand on his brother's shoulder and pulled him close. "My dear brother Solwein, I think there only exists one force in the world of man, orc, elf, dwarf, tauren and otherwise that can defeat such an evil, and it is its polar opposite, righteousness incarnate." Kaonus turned to Solwein and put his hand on the back of his head. "Yes, Solwein, this is the only way."

A moment of silence was taken before Aurius spoke. "There is another item of importance that you hold, Kaonus. That hilt there is the weapon of the light bringer, materializing only when the balance is shifted unfairly in evils favor.

Solwein remembered the prophet speaking of a balance as well. "But it has no blade. What good is a sword with no blade?" Solwein asked. "The blade appears only when the light bringer needs it." Aurius replied. "It's true, the holy presence it emits is unlike anything I've felt before," Kaonus added.

"You must get that hilt to the light bringer as soon as possible. The hilt will be your guide," Aurius said finally. "The brothers looked at each other, both thinking of the same thing. "So we've got our items; how do we get out?" Kaonus said bluntly.

"Not to worry, my dear big brother. I brought a trump card too," Kaonus said as he pulled out a small stone with the hearth symbol on it. "I had a mage enhance the magic in the hearth stone. She said it would teleport many at once and then crack, opposed to teleporting one and being reusable. I figured I would keep it for a tight situation. I had almost used it outside, but we were too scattered. It only has a small range," Solwein Rambled.

Kaonus was wide mouthed and dumbstruck. "You had... a hearth stone? Not only a hearth stone, but one that could save us all, and you had it the whole time? Are you kidding me?" Kaonus blared, mouth agape.

The troops scattered away again as if Solwein was consecrating the ground again. "We accomplished the mission didn't we? Not only that, but we also have the light bringers weapon. The 'Light Bringer's' weapon! You would have used it as soon as I was infected and we wouldn't have gotten anything," Solwein rebutted.

"I would have used that thing the moment you were infected. I can't believe you brought something like that along without telling me." Kaonus exclaimed.

This familiar argument went on for almost an hour and the troops began to get comfortable. It soon came down to light blows and the occasional magical outburst. Eventually they became tired and came to a stopping point. The troops started to get back up and ready to move, for the argument was nearing its end exactly the same way as it always did.

"Ok, we agree that you should have informed me at least, correct?" Kaonus said. "Yes and we agree that you would have used it prematurely used it and thus compromised the whole point of bringing it, correct?" Solwein said."Fine." Kaonus said plainly.

Aurius had taken a seat to wait for the childish paladins to finish their rambling and now that they had at last, he had one parting sentiment for them. "Good luck, young paladins. Charge hard, and never lose faith."

"Aurius, what will happen to you?" Kaonus asked. "The city is still under the control of the scourge. My unfinished business in this realm is to liberate the city so I shall remain here doing everything I can against the scourge until the battle is won. I may not stray far from the chapels grounds."

Solwein and Kaonus nodded. "20th legion, circle up and bring it in tight. It's going to be a bumpy ride through the nether," Solwein said loudly.

The troops came as close to the two paladins as they could and Solwein rubbed the hearth symbol with his thumb. As the world around them began to fade, Solwein whispered to Aurius before he was gone. "I will defeat the scourge and set you free. I swear it." And then the 20th faded away into the twisting nether with the light bringers sword in hand, to Stormwind.


	13. Chapter 12: Awakening

Chapter 12

The world all around was dark and nothing could be seen in any direction. Arkerya couldn't even see her own hand in front of her. There was no noise, only deathly silence, the kind she remembered from her refuge in Lordaeron. Only one thing let her know that oblivion hadn't swallowed the world, that she in fact still existed somewhere, somehow. That something was the bitter, bone chilling cold that encased her.

She had given up calling for help. For all of her efforts after her brief reunion with Grudamere to communicate with anybody, there had been no reprieve. Instead she simply sat down hugging her knees, waiting for an end she was sure would never come. She was still doing what Arthas wanted. She was still suffering. _Damn you..._

As her dark thoughts played out in her head, she closed her eyes. _I'm going to waste away here for the rest of eternity because of him. _More silent tears rolled down her face onto the black, invisible ground.

_I'm going to suffer alone in this void, freezing, never to see anyone or anything again. What happens to those who die while undead? They end up here. I don't know if I prefer being a walking corpse, a conscious puppet for a traitor and unable to speak or move of my own accord, or this emptiness. Damn you, Arthas. Even from this place I'll get you somehow, _she thought angrily.

Just then, a distant whisper issued from the nothingness. "Wake up," it said. Arkerya briefly hoped for a savior of some kind, but then quickly dismissed it as madness setting in and continued to sob quietly. "Wake up," it said again. Arkerya shook her head. _Great, now I have to endure disembodied voices in my head. It will be a long eternity indeed._

"Wake up!" the female voice blared. Arkerya leapt back in surprise and opened her eyes. Before her was a bright light bursting through a gaping hole in the void. Beyond it, a woman with a soft face peered through. Her skin was even fairer than Arkerya's and her hair was so golden, Arkerya wondered if she was an angel. The mysterious woman was coming into focus. Her eyes were glossy and sunken as if she hadn't slept in a great long time. She whispered again to Arkerya. "Wake up, Arkerya." The hole in the blackness widened a great deal until the Arkerya could see the woman's torso and then more to reveal the wooden walls around her. She lay in a medical cot in the middle of the room on a small platform. All around were what looked like bottles of wine still in their crates.

The woman was now in clear view. She was dressed in a golden and brown priestess gown with head band to match. She smiled at Arkerya and put a warm hand on her face. "Welcome back, dear. I am Anetta," _Warmth..._

Arkerya couldn't think of anything to say. Instead, she leapt into Anetta's arms in an embrace of ultimate gratitude. This stranger, Anetta, had saved her from what surely must have been hell. She had brought her back.

For a very long time, Anetta cradled the full grown woman in her arms as though she were a little girl again, brushing her hair out of her eyes when needed. Arkerya savored every second of the warm woman who cared for her and never loosened her embrace. After some time, Arkerya fell asleep in Anetta's arms. The priestess put her gently back in bed and then went downstairs to find Arhen.

Northshire was as peaceful and tranquil as ever. With the exception of the kobold hiding in the mines, the setting was, in every way, paradise-like. Anetta set out to find Arhen.

She found him by the stables smoking his pipe under a tree. "Sir Arhen, Arkerya has awakened," she called. Arhen bit the end of his wooden pipe off and choked momentarily. Once he had recovered and spit out the wooden splinters, he got to his feet quickly and sprinted directly past Anetta and up the stairs to the abbey's attic.

He started for the sleeping Arkerya, but Anetta was close behind and took him by the arm. "Let her rest. When she awoke, she was very scared. It's best to just leave her be for now. She'll come out to us in time," Anetta said softly.

Arhen looked at Anetta and then back at Arkerya. He went to the chair beside Arkerya's bed and sat down. The burly man put a gentle hand on Arkerya's forehead. "She's not so cold anymore," he said to the priestess. "I believe she was in some sort of spiritual purgatory. That would explain why our healing took such a long time. I only called her by name out of frustration, but luckily for all three of us, it worked."

Arkerya rolled over to face the two and barely opened her eyes. Anetta moved to Arhen's side. "Where's Grudamere?" Arkerya asked. Arhen frowned and looked at the floor. "The ritual that brought you back comes with the greatest price," Arhen said sadly.

Arkerya sat up and faced away from Anetta and Arhen. She hadn't considered that Grudamere had sacrificed himself for her. The thought was almost as unbearable as the memory of her family and she wasn't sure what to make of this new information.

"I wish to be alone," she said. Arhen and Anetta obliged and descended the stairs out of the attic. "Who wants to be alone after purgatory anyway?" Arhen said, slightly abashed.

"If I had just heard that someone had given their life to save mine, I wouldn't know what to think. I'll bet she feels confused and humbled. It is likely that she feels vengeful too, considering what Arthas has taken from her," Anetta said.

As they reached the ground floor of the abbey, marshal Albus McBride, the local law enforcement officer, approached them. "Master Arhen, there are four of your order and two... others outside to meet you," said the marshal.

Arhen walked briskly out the entryway to find Solwein, Kaonus, Callencia and Novacon on horseback. Callencia's dark hair hung all the way down past her elbows and her piercing brown eyes were narrow and focused. She wore the same armor as the brothers and at her side was a silver long sword. Unlike the other three, Callencia also wielded a tower shield, as she refused to fight without one.

Arhen recognized Novacon by his crest. In the grand hall of Stormwind's dwarven district, there hung a crest for each of the orders avatars, the leaders of the Silver Hand. Two hammers descending on an anvil were engraved on top of his right gauntlet.

His short, unkempt hair was a dark shade of red that almost appeared black. His face was bright and proud looking. This included his soft, green eyes which always seemed to smile, even if his mouth was not. Though he wielded a silver claymore like most paladins, his armor was made of ring mail, indicating he held the billet of a scout among the order. He was the spitting image of a dashing rogue in a paladin's clothes.

The other two were creatures garbed in crystalline, purple armor with floating purple crystals hovering around their pauldrons. On their backs were identical hammers made of the same material. Their skin was grey, but not dull and instead of beards upon their chins, they had fleshy tentacles. Arhen was unsettled by their appearance, but said nothing.

Their mounts were twice the size of horses and from their faces where their noses should have been protruded a long appendage. They had long tusks coming from their mouths and a short tail. Arhen looked between them, bewildered.

"Have no fear, Arhen. The one on my left is Zhor and the one next to Novacon is Ignas. They are Draenei. I will tell you all about them later. For now, know that they are learned in the ways of the light and are allies," Solwein said.

Arhen nodded. "I assume that you are here to see her," Arhen said. "Aye. She was unconscious the last time we saw her. Does she live?" Kaonus asked. "She is alive, but until today, she has been in purgatory according to Anetta. She awoke not but an hour ago," Arhen replied.

The six of them dismounted and started for the entrance. "She has asked to remain alone," Arhen said, stopping them from entering. Solwein understood. "Then we shall leave her to her thoughts for now. I would probably feel the same way," Solwein replied, seemingly drifting in his thoughts as he said it.

"Well, there's nothing to do until she decides to come to us. Zhor, Ignas; there happens to be an exceptional ale vendor in the valley today. You wanted to know what it was and how it could be so wonderful, so follow me to the trade caravan and I'll show you," Kaonus said pointing to the trade carts across the way.

"Oh yes, I should love to drink some ale with you. I hope you will show me that game you spoke of," Ignas said. "The one with twenty mugs on a long table and two small balls? That's a grand idea! Maybe we can come up with a good name for it as well," Kaonus replied excitedly.

"Don't drink too much you great heathen," Solwein said. "We won't be staying long." Kaonus nodded and the three of them walked toward the trade caravan.

Arhen cleared his throat and turned to the remaining three. "It's probably none of my business, but if I may ask, what exactly has you interested in this girl, notwithstanding the redemption?" Arhen asked carefully.

The answer was loaded before any of the three spoke a word. Callencia, having still said absolutely nothing this whole time they had been here, turned away as though she was disgusted by the answer. Arhen's considerable size and stature seemed to diminish as Callencia turned away and stared at the entrance to the valley. To Arhen's surprise, Novacon spoke first.

"Other than that certain event that we do not mention in public, we seek information on the scourge. Not only has she been among them, she has actually been one of them and that makes her the closest thing to a spy that we can get in this war. Surely you knew that."

His tone wasn't cold, but it was slightly stern. Novacon's face was still as soft and unintimidating as ever, but his voice was almost condescending. "I was afraid you would say that, my lord," Arhen tenderly replied.

Novacon seemed content after Arhen addressed him formally. And now, a spark of curiosity flashed across his face. "Why would you be afraid of that, Arhen Gallant?" he said. Arhen loosened up slightly after being addressed formally as well.

"I've spent some time at her bed side here and there throughout her rest here. I've seen her sleep so soundly and peacefully. She was so serene and unavailable to the real world. But I have also seen her toss and turn and even scream in her sleep. I have witnessed her purgatory, her long trek through hope and despair, though I had no idea it was anything more than a dream at the time. If I were her, I wouldn't want to talk about it," Arhen explained.

"Purgatory?" Callencia said, looking over her shoulder at Arhen. Arhen paused. "Yes, my lady." he replied. All three of the avatars seemed slightly more intrigued. "What makes you think she was in purgatory?" Solwein asked.

"It is only what Anetta said, but after she said it, I remembered Arkerya's sleep behavior and it only presents more evidence in its favor," Arhen said. "Anetta said it then? I shall be having a word with her about that. Avatars Callencia and Novacon, please follow me to Anetta's study," Solwein said.

Arhen bowed and then allowed the three passage into the abbey. After they walked down the hall to Anetta's quarters, Arhen took a seat on a bench in the main hall. The half-spherical glass roof was a wonder to be sure. The light from the morning sun was hitting the glass just right, sending beams of light in all directions. The great tree outside casted a shadow through the lightshow, its leaves dancing on the stone walls. In his short stay there, Arhen had come to enjoy his time in the main hall.

"That's really beautiful," came a quiet voice from the spiral stair case leading to the attic. "Does this happen every day?" Arkerya asked. Arhen thought of calling his masters to inform them of Arkerya's appearance, but decided against it.

"Yes it does. I actually come here almost every day just to see it. The stars are beautiful at night as well," Arhen said. "I love the stars. I used to watch them every night at the top of the hill back home. No matter what happened that day, I could always look up at the night sky and watch them twinkle," said Arkerya. She walked to the middle and looked up at the sun. She quickly looked down at the floor and rubbed the water out of her eyes.

Arhen cocked an eyebrow. "You know, if you look up at the sun, it will burn your eyes. You really shouldn't," he said. Arkerya chuckled softly without smiling and looked up at Arhen. "I know that, but you see, I haven't seen the sun or the stars in a long time. Even if it burns me, I consider that a luxury in itself," she replied.

Arhen was a little unsettled from her words, but said nothing. Instead, he changed the subject. "How are you feeling?" he asked. She looked at him with an expression that said it all, but she said nothing out loud.

_I can't get through to her. If I ask about one thing, she speaks morbidly. If I talk about another thing, she's morbidly silent. Talking to this girl is like talking to the enemy. Every subject is touchier than the last._ Arhen's mouth dropped open as the concept hit him at last. _Of course. This young woman has recently awakened from undeath. Of course she's feeling morbid. The trauma must have been unbearable._

Arhen was silent for a moment as he tried to think of what to say, if anything. He looked up at the ceiling and the sun burned his eyes. "You know, it really is beautiful in here, isn't it," he said half out of absentmindedness.

Arkerya smiled and looked at him blissfully. "Yes, it truly is." She strode over to the bench that Arhen was sitting on and stood before him. "Have you been here long? May I know your name?" she asked him.

"Aye. The name is Arhen of the Netherlands and I brought you here from Southshore after your redemption four months ago," he said. "You were unconscious until this very morning. Good thing too, considering that my superiors came to see you today." Arkerya looked slightly surprised.

"Your superiors came to see me? What could they want with me?" Arkerya asked quizzically.

"We just have a few questions for you, dear," Solwein said from behind the corner. Arkerya looked in his direction and seemed to shrink in his powerful presence. "I would speak with you in private, Arkerya, if you would so kindly oblige," Solwein said graciously.

"Well, I'll do the best I can," Arkerya managed weakly. Solwein nodded slowly. "Leave us Arhen," he said.

Arhen bowed and exited the hall to the outside, leaving Arkerya and Solwein alone. Solwein took a seat where Arhen had been before while Arkerya remained standing. "Please, won't you sit down and speak with me?" Solwein said gently.

Without a word, Arkerya quickly took her seat and sat curtly straight up. "Please, Arkerya, calm yourself. I am not here to interrogate you or anything else of the like. I won't force you to answer me, but would some time to rest help at all?"

Arkerya wasn't physically weary, as her body had rested for some time now, but her mental health had declined drastically. The trip through the dungeons of Lordaeron and Grudamere's daring escape were first to take their toll on her. Through that ordeal, her soul had been imprisoned and almost snuffed out.

Afterward came her redemption, a trip through the blackness and cold. While her body had recuperated, her mind was still constantly strained. "A great deal of time would be more suitable, if you can be patient, Sir Solwein," she replied formally and perfectly.

Solwein seemed halfway flattered but his face still frowned. "I'm afraid that time is of the essence, my lady. I need you to tell me of your experiences soon. If you cannot, then say so and I'll leave to find other avenues of information. I'll give you all the time I can, but remember that it is little to begin with.

Before the fall of Lordaeron, Arkerya could only run from the rage of war. After all that had happened now, however, she felt something more. "It started in the Lordaeron dungeons..." she began. Solwein bent closer to listen to her.

She told him of Grudamere and what had happened in Lordaeron. Then she described her scourge experience in great detail all the way up to her awakening in Northshire.

"Does that satisfy your questions, Lord Solwein?" she asked finally. "Aye, and then some. You have given me vital information that I can use against the scourge. I already have a few holy weapons in mind. On behalf of the entire Silver Hand, thank you for your cooperation," he replied.

Then Solwein bowed graciously and then stood up straight to face Arkerya. "And off the record, you are pure of heart. I can see it in your soul, so I have something to test on you if you would have it," he proposed suddenly.

Arkerya blinked and then mouthed the word 'test'. _What exactly does that mean? I'm not some guinea pig._ "I can see that you aren't too keen on the idea. Perhaps if I explain exactly what I mean."

Solwein reached into his cloak pocket to retrieve that which he had fought so hard to get, the Light Bringer's Hilt. "That's the sword of the Light Bringer!" Arkerya gasped. Solwein blinked.

"Aye, that it is. How did you know?" Solwein asked interrogatively. Arkerya stiffened as she answered. "I... I don't know. It's just what first came to mind," she said. Solwein rubbed his chin and finally began his explanation.

"My Lady, ever since laying eyes upon this hilt I have felt your presence. I first sensed you in Stratholme, though I said nothing to my brother or anyone for that matter. I didn't even dare think of it in the plaguelands for fear of dark magic that makes one able to read my mind. But you were there none the less, you and your weak presence," Solwein said as he stared inquisitively at Arkerya.

"But you knew, on sight, even though you have never seen or heard of it before; you knew this was the Light Bringers hilt. Since it wasn't until I saw it close up that I first sensed you, I'm certain that it was the hilt's doing. The evidence is engaging, wouldn't you say?" Solwein asked, rubbing his chin again as he thought.

Arkerya was now wide eyed and wary. "I have no idea what this all means. I may have survived the scourge, but I'm still a normal girl from the Hillside village in Tirisfal!" Arkerya said defensively.

With great speed, Solwein drew his hidden short blade and swung over head at Arkerya. _Wrist straight... choke up..._ Arkerya answered with her elven short sword and blocked the attack.

"No normal girl from the Hillside village in Tirisfal has the kind of fighting spirit that you do. Your potential power puts mine to shame and as I get closer to you I can see further into your soul as though the light connects us in some way. This is unprecedented."

Solwein moved his widened eyes closer to hers and stared for a good long time. Arkerya, though nervous, didn't move and allowed him to see. After nearly ten minutes, Solwein backed away.

"Well...?" Arkerya asked. Solwein cracked a half smile. "My speculation was correct. You and I have been connected by the light for some reason. This means two things. One, it means that you are blessed by the holy light and therefore trainable as a paladin. Two, it means that I am supposed to train you. Before the fall of the Silver Hand, I achieved the rank of Knight-Gallant, the lowest rank allowed to take on an apprentice. The light does not make idol decisions and I shall follow it whole heartedly to the best of my abilities."

Arkerya narrowed her eyes at Solwein. "How do you know all this?" Arkerya asked cautiously. "As I said, I can see into your soul, and in peering into one's soul, you can see their destiny," Solwein replied.

Arkerya paused and stepped back. _This makes way to much sense to me. Something tells me that he can be trusted and that he's telling the truth. In fact, I know he's telling the truth. _Arkerya knelt before Solwein. "Master, teach me the way of the paladin. Teach me to do what you do. I am your humble servant."

Solwein bent down and raised her back to her feet by her hand ever so gently. "I will teach you the way of the paladin, but since the light has chosen you for me, you need never kneel to me again. Follow me to Stormwind, and the surviving masters of the fallen Silver Hand will begin your training," Solwein said.

"But you are my master. Why are you not teaching me but instead leaving me to one of your subordinates," Arkerya stopped and redirected her response. "I'm sorry master, I'm sure you have a good reason. I trust in you, Master Solwein," Arkerya finished.

Solwein sensed a fluctuation in Arkerya's energy. It lasted only for a moment, but Solwein was able to identify it as a holy energy spike, the kind that can be used to consecrate the ground. But nothing happened and the spike was gone in an instant; the atmosphere returned to normal.

"Follow me and my companions back to Stormwind, Arkerya," Solwein said. "Yes, my master," she replied. "I shall be packed and ready in a short while, as I have few possessions.

"Then we shall wait for you outside." Arkerya stood up first and bowed low. Solwein smiled and dismissed her.

As she rounded the corner and began her accent to the attic to collect her things, Solwein walked back towards the entrance and then outside, thinking deeply to himself. What he didn't tell Arkerya was that he _knew_ the reason the light had paired them.

_Everything the prophet had said is coming true. He said this one would powerful beyond imagination and that this one would have been one of his minions. I can't believe how easy it was to find her, although I'm sure that was the easy part. But this girl..._

Solwein was full of doubt. The thought of Arkerya, a simple and frail looking girl possessing as much power as he sensed in her, baffled and humbled him. Though dedicated to the holy light and the spirit of righteousness, even Solwein was capable of doubt. _She can't really be the next Light Bringer, can she?_

Arkerya looked at her belongings on the bed that Anetta had laid out for her mournfully. _A shirt, a dress, shoes, and a sword. That's all that's left..._ She picked up her elven short sword that had somehow found its way back to her and stared at the perfect blade, peering deep into her own eyes. _What did you really see in these eyes of mine? A creature of darkness is all I see. Damn you Arthas._

Arkerya had been hiding something from Solwein. She had no intention of serving the holy light and no intention of being one of Solwein's order forever. The dungeons and the abyss were still fresh in her mind and her one and only goal was to make the man responsible pay with his life. "Vengeance will be mine," she whispered to herself.

It was a well known fact that paladins never engaged in battle for their personal vengeance, but rather in the name of the light. Arkerya saw this as a happy coincidence. She and the light had a common foe, one who threatened much more than the existence of both. She wasn't entirely sure of the scale of this fact, but it didn't matter to her anyway. Ever since the first day of her imprisonment and her excruciating conversion to and undead corpse, she thought only of spilling Arthas's blood.

Over and over, her weary brain repeated their names in her head. _Drew, Mother, Father... _Over and over she thought of her baby brother that never received a name. She had thought of giving him a name to remember him by, but she neither wanted to remember his short life nor give a name to a dead baby. The thought made her feel like she was doing something Arthas would do.

With a heavy sigh, she slid the short blade under the belt that Anetta had provided her along with the shirt and pants she was wearing and rolled her old clothes hastily before tucking them under her arm.

Despite her desire to kill Arthas as soon as possible, she wasn't eager to leave the haven of Northshire. The setting was even more beautiful than her home, though it may have been that way by comparison to her most recent experiences. Still, she felt a sense of peace here, a sort of belonging, especially around Solwein.

_Forget that kind of thinking you stupid girl. Grow up and remember your goal in life. I go to claim Arthas's head._

With a mean look to no one, she descended the staircase and exited the abbey to find five mounted paladins and two quite odd looking humanoids riding even odder mounts.

Arkerya jumped back in surprise. "Fear not Arkerya. They are allies and paladins like ourselves," Solwein said reassuringly. "I do hope you can get used to our outlandish appearance, Arkerya," said Zhor. "I'll introduce everyone once we're underway. Please ride with me, Arkerya," Kaonus said cocking his eyebrows.

Solwein promptly shoved Kaonus halfway off of his horse. Kaonus came back with a "what was that for" look as he got all the way on his steed again. Solwein pursed his lips and shot a "you know exactly what that was for" look back. Kaonus paused and then returned with a "well... yeah..." look.

"You'll ride with Callencia," Solwein said. Arkerya obligingly climbed up behind the only female paladin and got comfortable, taking hold of Callencia's shield. "It is only a short ride to Stormwind. Hang on tight," Callencia said, obviously pleased at the added female company.

The eight of them then turned form the abbey and headed south down the road and past the stone wall at the entrance to the valley, bound for Stormwind to begin Arkerya's training. _Prepare yourself Arthas. I know I am._


	14. Chapter 13: A Necessary Accident

Chapter 13

The ride to Stormwind was indeed short, lasting only a few hours. Arkerya wasn't all that impressed. Compared to Lordaeron, Stormwind was a bit run down and dirty, but the troops stationed there were no less poised or imposing. Arkerya had wondered how strong the armies of the south could be now that their neighbor to the north had been decimated. _I guess we're not quite so beaten after all._

"This is The Valley of Heroes, Arkerya," Callencia said. "As the heroes of the north, including Uther, stood in Lordaeron, the heroes of the south stand here in this valley, ever vigilant as they were in life. Honor them, for they fought and bled for much that stands before you today."

Arkerya had never paid much attention to history, only tales considered to be myth or legend. Uther the Light Bringer was the only exception to this, due to his modern day legendary status, but she didn't recognize any of the statues before her. Uninterested, she remained silent. Callencia droned on.

"Agamand the True, Conjurus Rex," she said as they passed the many stone statues. "Aurius the Pure," Kaonus chimed in. Solwein averted his eyes from the statue of Aurius. "Aye him as well, I met him once a long time ago. He passed through Tarren Mill to the Hinterlands when I was a boy, though I can't imagine what a paladin would be doing all the way out there," Novacon said. Solwein attempted to change the subject.

"Master's Zhor and Ignas, have you any interest in these heroes? Our archives as well as the city's library are filled with the history of these men and women. I would be happy to show you," he said.

"Perhaps later. I am more interested in seeing what Arkerya can do. You did take her in on a whim after all." Ignas's bluntness was unappreciated by all, especially Solwein, for the others had questioned his decision to even visit Northshire in the first place.

_"Secrecy is of the utmost importance," says the prophet. Well secrecy can't be maintained with so many loud-mouthed buffoons around here. _Solwein's thoughts weren't bitter, only slightly frustrated due to his inability to speak to anyone on the matter. Yet again, he tried changing the subject.

"Arkerya, I would like to arrange a meeting with the king as soon as possible. Callencia will groom you, dress you, and teach you what to say for the rest of the day today. I should return to our quarters in the dwarven district by dusk. I will speak with you then. Callencia, prepare her," Solwein said.

Callencia nodded and Arkerya blinked, obviously petrified at the idea. "Worry not lass," said Arhen. "King Varian Wrynn doesn't stand on ceremony. In fact, he sent me away the first time I met him. Apparently he prefers armor to fine evening dress. You'll be fine." Callencia peeked back at Arkerya with a soft and reassuring smile. It didn't help.

As the group passed into the trade district at the center of the city, Callencia veered to the right towards Old Town where SI:7 was located to arm and fit Arkerya. The remaining six continued forward to the canals and then onward to Stormwind's keep where the king dwelled.

"Solwein, are you sure it isn't too soon to take her to see him? She isn't even equipped yet and I haven't seen her perform one single spell, holy or otherwise," Novacon said. Solwein bit his lower lip, knowing that this dreaded conversation couldn't be avoided for long. Kaonus looked over at him in an inquisitive way. _Damn it all. Oh well, I suppose I can't keep it from them forever. _Solwein looked to his left to find The Gilded Rose, Stormwind's most popular inn. _With all the commotion in there, I'm sure we won't have to worry about our privacy._

"Into the inn, and prepare yourselves. Master's Zhor and Ignas, might I ask that you take your leave so that we may talk?" Solwein said to the Draenei. The two nodded shortly and trailed toward the cathedral district where they were quartered as ambassadors.

The four who were left dismounted and tied their horses outside the entrance to the inn. As they strode inside, they got the usual greeting from the barkeep and took a seat in a booth by the back window. Once seated all eyes moved to Solwein and his own stared at the table. He hesitated, unable to think of a way to tell about the prophet without compromising the secrecy of his quest.

"What will it be, masters?" said the nearby barmaid. "Four beers. We need to keep the drinking light today," said Solwein. Kaonus was the only one at the table that didn't instantly look suspicious, for he knew what Solwein had to say. At least, he thought he did.

The barmaid returned with the beer and set one in front of each paladin, promptly leaving them to their conversation afterward. "Well?" Novacon said. _Damn, I don't know how much I can tell these guys without creating any liabilities. _Solwein said nothing but continued to stare and think deeply, desperately trying to think of the right way to say what needed to be said.

_I can't just tell them to have faith in me. That wouldn't get us anywhere._ "Master Solwein?" Arhen chimed in. "I'm thinking!" Solwein said a little too loudly. His outburst attracted momentary attention of the other patrons. Solwein was so nervous about speaking of the prophet he barely noticed them. The dull roar started up again and Solwein took a deep breath. _Well, here it goes._

"Something happened in Durotar when Arkhel, Kaonus and I were recalled to the east," Solwein began. Arhen and Novacon leaned forward, sensing the seriousness in his voice. "Novacon, as an avatar of the new Silver Hand, I expect you to never breathe a word of what you hear today in this booth," Solwein said, staring into Novacon's eyes, which were now wide and wary. "Arhen, you are an adept of this organization. I only recruited you in recent months, but I have spent time with you and learned a great deal. I believe I can trust you with this information, so in order to have a connection with Arkerya at a lower level, can I confide this information in you?" Solwein said ascetically.

"You have my word as a paladin of the holy light. Will that do?" Arhen replied. Solwein stared at the table again, fearing what he was about to divulge. "Aye, that will do." With one last look around the table and a long swig of his beer, Solwein began his explanation.

"Arkerya is the next light bringer," he said quietly. Novacon's eyes became fiery and dangerous and Solwein was quickly reminded that he was no longer in the absence of his superiors.

"You speak heresy! How dare you!" Novacon spat. Kaonus pulled from under his cloak the codex he and his brother had recovered from Stratholme and flashed it to Novacon carefully to avoid being seen. Novacon's rage quickly turned to surprise and confusion as he looked between the two of them.

"I assume you know what that is, master Novacon?" Solwein asked formally and courteously. "If I wasn't versed in holy energies, I would say it was a fake, but yes I do, Solwein errant. Why have you withheld this? You should have involved myself and the other avatars as soon as you returned here," Novacon replied.

Solwein took another deep breath. "I was visited by a prophet on the night that my legion was recalled to the east," Solwein said, staring into Novacon's eyes. Solwein remembered _exactly_ what the prophet had said to him and recited the powerful words to the three.

"You must find the only one who can defeat your adversary. This one is powerful beyond imagination. This one has been a creature of the dark, one of 'his' minions. This one… is the next light bringer. Find this one, the heir to Uther's legacy, and guide them. Through you they will gain the ability to end evil forever, but should you fail, the light will fall and the world will forever be shrouded in the plague. That is what the prophet said to me." Kaonus looked at Solwein, bewildered. Arhen and Novacon however bowed their heads in understanding.

"What's a prophet?" Kaonus asked shamelessly. "I'll tell you later, foolish brother," Solwein replied indignantly. "Solwein errant of Lordaeron, I don't need to tell you that your words are that of a heretic if you haven't solid proof of your claims and as an avatar of the Order of the Silver Hand, I am obligated to hang you for them. That being said, you and that book have my undivided attention. Speak carefully," Novacon said dangerously.

"Yes sir," Solwein said fearfully. This was the first time Novacon had ever acted this way in front of them and all three of the younger paladins at the table were wrought with apprehensiveness. Solwein then told him of the battle at Stratholme and the guidance Aurius had given them. He told him of the link he had with Arkerya and also of the hilt of the Light Bringer.

Novacon's attitude changed definitively when Solwein pulled the broken weapon from under his own cloak. For a long time, Novacon stared at the table, apparently deep in thought. As Solwein started to speak again, he was interrupted by the all too familiar sounds of battle in the distance.

The other patrons in the bar began flocking to the streets to find out what was happening and all four paladins jumped up, for they felt the same presence that brought fear to even the most powerful of holy warriors.

"For now, I grant you a period of grace so that you may serve your oath one last time, Solwein," Novacon said, drawing his silver claymore.

"You're tense. No holy power will escape your body if you can't relax and use it," Callencia said gently to Arkerya as she wrapped her hair into a bun. Arkerya said nothing back, aware that Callencia didn't know of her recent experiences. Instead, she attempted to do what the Callencia said and relaxed a little. _This armor is heavy old woman, so of course I'm tense. Oh well. No sense in wallowing in grief. Time to knuckle up and do what needs to be done._

"You know, the light grants something of a sixth sense to paladins. I can piece together what you are thinking," Callencia said playfully and seriously at the same time. Arkerya whipped around slinging her hair out of the neat but unfinished bun to face Callencia, wide eyed and visibly violated.

"I'm not that much older than you anyway," Callencia chuckled. "Still, you do have a point; there is no sense in wallowing," Callencia said as she turned Arkerya's head back around to fix the bun. Her voice became more serious as she continued. "The path of the paladin is one of great hardship and obtaining the title in the first place won't be easy either," Callencia said.

"I have my motivations," Arkerya replied simply. "And what are those?" Callencia asked. Arkerya again said nothing and this time cleared her mind. Callencia paused for a moment, obviously trying to invade Arkerya's thoughts again. After a few seconds she began again. "Good," she said, finishing the bun.

"Look at you, all suited up and fitted. You might pass for a paladin yet," Callencia said optimistically. "Follow me and we'll choose a weapon for you," Callencia said. "A weapon? I thought that paladins were issued the same universal weapon, the silver claymore," Arkerya replied as she followed Callencia down the corridor to the armory.

"Nothing about a paladin is universal. We each serve and connect with the light in our own way. For instance, Kaonus is strong, _very _strong, but his strength isn't that of a man but instead divine strength. The light grants it to him because he can use it most effectively. Paladins like Solwein or myself are more thoughtful paladins, wielding the light in the form of magic. The same goes for all other matters concerning the holy light and it's servants. The claymore is simply the most common," Callencia explained.

When they reached the armory, they were greeted by a thin and dashing man with a black pony tail and sea faring clothes, much like that of a pirate yet still dignified enough to wear in public. "Ahoy, avatar Callencia. You look lovely as ever," said the man.

"Hello, Drogin," Callencia said, annoyed. "And who the devil is this sweet and slender young woman?" Drogin said boldly. Callencia narrowed here eyes and glared at Drogin. "Ahem... yes, what can I do for you ladies today?" he said more courteously than before. "This one needs to choose a weapon. Show her the way. And for heaven's sake, try to be professional for a change you shameless thing you," Callencia said, holding back a smile. "Aren't I always?" Drogin chuckled. If Callencia was amused, she hid it well. A short, awkward pause followed and then Drogin spoke again.

"Right... anyway, right this way missy," he said. Arkerya went behind the front counter to the many rows of weapons stacked neatly in their racks, leaving Callencia behind who went back to the corridor to wait. Getting closer, Arkerya could see how deep Drogin's roguish charm went. His eyes were sharp and hazel in color and his lips were slightly pursed in proportion to the rest of his face. The only thing that stood out on him were his rosy cheeks. Arkerya smelled whisky on him, but she couldn't help but feel like it fit his personality and he wouldn't be complete without the stench.

They came to the center of the room where a single chair sat. "Have a seat, my dear," Drogin said shamelessly. Arkerya sat down without taking her eyes off the audacious paladin.

"Now close your eyes," he said. Arkerya gave him a wary glance. "Hah! Worry not, my redheaded beauty. My right hand is the touchy one, but fear not for I am left handed and will easily be able to restrain it," he said. _What a strange man._

Content to see Callencia peeking in from the doorway vigilantly she closed her eyes. "Now think of a single golden orb floating in front of you. Clear your mind of all other things and focus on this one glowing sphere. Watch it and wait for it to move," Drogin continued.

Arkerya did as she was told. The orb appeared in her mind and sat in front of her. "Are you sure about this?" Arkerya asked suspiciously. "Sure I'm sure. Just do as I say and follow that orb," Drogin said.

In her mind, Arkerya imagined the orb moving right. She tried to go to it, but for some reason, couldn't. "That's the way! Now stand up and follow it," Drogin said. Arkerya fought the weight of her armor and got to her feet and took a step to the right. Sure enough, she came closer to the orb. The ball of light moved a little more to the right and then straight forward. Arkerya obediently followed it.

"Don't open your eyes. Just concentrate on that orb and stay with it," said Drogin. Arkerya followed the orb as instructed quite a long way, all the while worried about tripping on something, but she never did. Finally, the orb came to rest in front of her.

"It stopped," she said. "Good, now grasp it with your dominant hand," Drogin said. Arkerya reached out with her right hand and took hold of the orb, grasping what she presumed was the handle of a weapon. "Now open your eyes," Drogin instructed.

In Arkerya's hand was a double edged, medium sized silver rapier of fine decor. At the back of the guard was the head of a lion, Stormwind's standard, and the pummel was lined with gold trim, the mark of a holy weapon. Arkerya felt at ease with her surroundings for the first time since before the invasion of Tirisfal. A warm embrace of intangible energy blanketed her and she felt free and clear.

Her secure feeling was short-lived, however, and suddenly an intense fear and unease took her. Her heart started to pound and she backed into a corner, rapier at the ready. Drogin was looking at a different wall, obviously aware of something she wasn't.

"Drogin, Arkerya, quickly!" Callencia beckoned. Drogin took Arkerya by the wrist and pulled her across the room to Callencia. "We must bring Arkerya to Solwein. We'll head to the trade district and search for him there," Callencia commanded. "What just happened to me?" Arkerya asked frantically as the three ran out of the armory building to the streets. "You were in touch with your inner light and something nearby has disturbed the light. Surely you knew that already, having received the training necessary to perform that kind of exercise," said Drogin, far more serious than before.

"Training?" Arkerya replied. "You haven't trained _at all?_ Avatar Callencia, has she been trained?" Without missing a step, Callencia looked over her shoulder and shook her head. Drogin turned to Arkerya, eyes wide and mouth agape. "Just who are you exactly?"

The three passed the auction house to find Solwein and the others sprinting out of the inn, swords drawn. The city warning bells began to chime in the distance.

Solwein spotted them immediately and hurried to Arkerya's side and stayed close to her. Arkerya felt a little uncomfortable.

"You should be more worried about what we're running to than Solwein's intentions, Arkerya," Callencia said. _Damn it all woman, leave me alone!_ They all came to a stop behind a battalion sized group of Stormwind footmen that were forming ranks in front of the main city gate in the valley of heroes.

"Solwein, stay with Arkerya and protect her at all costs," Novacon commanded. "The rest of you, follow me to the front." The five of them began shoving their way to the head of the formation.

_This is crazy! _"Master Solwein! What is going on?" Arkerya demanded. Solwein looked over at her and bit his bottom lip. "The scourge..." he said. "Well then what are we waiting for? To the front I say," she replied.

Solwein admired her eagerness, but knew better. He grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her in the direction of the cathedral, the most heavily guarded dwelling in the city. "Master Solwein! I want to fight. Arthas could be..." she was interrupted as Solwein came to an abrupt stop and looked at her. "You're right. Arthas could be out there and if you are out there he will take your life ending all hope the living have," he said.

Arkerya was taken aback. It was now clear that Solwein hadn't been telling her the whole story. The shock had brought some form of composure back to her. She stared at him, expecting him to elaborate.

"I promise I'll explain later, but for now you need to concentrate on staying alive," Solwein exclaimed. Once again, Arkerya felt a strong urge to place faith in Solwein, so she did and the two continued hurriedly to the cathedral district with droves of civilians.

As Callencia and the others neared the front, they spotted Zhor and Ignas deterring the entry of the scourge outside the walls. Upon reaching the front, the vastness of the scourge horde in front of them became clear. It was immense.

"Avatar Novacon, with Arkhel dead you are the ranking paladin in the order. What would you have us do?" Callencia said as the drawbridge finally began to close.

"They will not retreat, so we must simply destroy them all," Novacon said. _Of course that's what we have to do. There is no other way to beat the scourge._

All seven of them knew that there wasn't any known way to defeat the scourge other than complete annihilation and, though stalwart and composed, they all were uneasy at this fact.

"I shall lead the defense from below. The rest of you make good on your holy advantage and spray them with as much magic as you can from above with the archers. Enchant their arrows and swords if necessary. Hell, bless stones and throw them at the scourge if that's what it takes. They most likely have a way over our walls so you all will probably come to close combat before they ram through the gate," Novacon instructed.

All the others nodded in understanding and moved up the stairs to the rampart above, ready for battle. Once on top, they had a clear view of the scourge army. All of them immediately began searching for the same person, Arthas. Callencia was able to see the farthest.

She made out many skeletal giants that she had never seen before as well as dozens of meat wagons and abominations. Necromancers and bone wizards were poised to begin their magical assault and the insane amount of walking corpses, skeletons, and mounted bone lords covered the green land of elwynn forest. Among the droves of undead were several liches, bearing a resemblance to the notorious Kel'Thuzad, though not as decorated.

The scourge was still assembling from the rear on the horizon as the front began their advance. A large and long tree was carried by several abominations to ram the gate and long ladders came into view very quickly underneath the grey veil of the scourge.

"Bit of a rag-tag strategy isn't it?" Arhen said. "Not at all," replied Callencia. "You will come to find, young paladin, that the best way to fight the scourge is to fight them head on with holy magic. I hope you've been practicing."

The resounding roar in the distance echoing off the cathedrals massive walls chilled Arkerya to the bone. The memories of Lordaeron played out in her head like a picture book that needed no words. Inside the chapel already were the clergy and many civilians, all busy barricading any entrance. _It won't work._

Among them was Archbishop Benedictus. Other than Solwein, the Archbishop was the only one who seemed formidable in his own right. Though aging, like much of the clergy, he stood upright and boldly. His stature, however, was mostly unfounded due his almost scrawny physique and grey hair, but still tribute to his mysterious power that Arkerya could somehow feel. His blue eyes were glowing, a well known attribute of powerful holy mystics.

The dull roar to the south east continued to drone on but no sound of battle could yet be heard. Solwein had retreated to a side chamber of the hall and knelt down to meditate. Arkerya wasn't sure he was actually meditating instead of praying for a miraculous escape. That's what she was doing.

"Hold on. Don't block the last window. Solwein has asked you let him exit to fight on the outside before sealing the chapel," Benedictus said. The peasants halted their labors and Solwein emerged from his meditative retreat.

"Master Solwein, surely you can't hope to hold them alone. Let me fight beside you," Arkerya said running towards him. Solwein turned over his shoulder and sharply pointed toward the back of the cathedral. "You'll stay here, Arkerya. Until you're ready, you'll only do as I say," he commanded.

Arkerya was visibly dejected by his dominant tone. She did as she was told and moved backward to the large mass of people inside to wait out the battle.

_She must survive. If she doesn't, all is lost._

The scourge had now amassed an army so huge that its rear flanks were shrouded by the woods. If not for the heavy contingent of paladins in the city, both of the order, the Argent Dawn, and freelance clerics, Novacon would have ordered an evacuation by sea.

Luckily, droves of them shuffled to the front to counter the undead and with such a potent blend of holy warriors and mages, a full frontal assault would decimate the undead front lines.

On top of the robust holy sect of fighters amassed there were SI:7 black op assassins, arena bruisers, heavy dwarven artillery, wizards from the north and even a small group of night elf druids visiting from Darnassus. No major battle with the scourge had been won to date, but the far corners of Azeroth were quickly realizing that the problem lay not in the enemy's strength, but in the lack of unity among the people.

Old alliances had been rekindled, broken bonds repaired and Kaonus then looked back at the diverse mixture of raw warfare behind him and saw the cherry on top of the proverbial cake.

"Make way for the king!" shouted a royal guard as a cluster of keep guards pushed their way to the front. In the middle of the group was the long lost king of Stormwind, Varian Wrynn.

"I seek Novacon. Where is Avatar Novacon of the New Silver Hand?" called the king. "Here my liege," Novacon bellowed in reply, bowing as is custom on the battlefield.

"As you were. Where do we stand?" Wrynn said. "Our holy forces are standing by at the front awaiting the order to charge. Cavalry is mounting up but we'll have to hold them off long enough to get the horses into position. On top of the walls are archers, mages and several of my best paladins ready to rain hell. We were just waiting for you, my king," said Novacon.

Wrynn drew both of his massive swords, adorned with sapphires below the guard and cool blue runes on the blades, and stared into the deep withering wood. The plague was beginning to take effect and would soon consume the forest in disease.

Wrynn turned to face the living army. They were surprisingly skittish, for word from the north had spread and the tale of Gunhilldur had been told. Even though the living had finally banded together to a degree, the odds could have been much better.

"I'm sure that you all have heard the tale of Randall Von Gunhilldur by now. Outnumbered and totally unprepared, he stood strong against a similar foe as the one before you. He fought, died, and lost. His fate was sealed the moment he took up his sword and faced the most unspeakable of evils. He and three hundred men proudly stood in defiance of the coming storm. You are men of Stormwind, the fearless and benevolent kingdom of men. With our allies from all over the world, we too will stand against them. On Gunhilldur's side were three-hundred rag tag militia men and a small formation of wizards and dwarves. On our side now are paladins, assassins, gladiators, druids and battlemages. With the glory of light, the fury of nature and tempered steel, we 'will' drive the scourge away today at this battle for Stormwind. We 'will' send the scourge running. History be damned with the rest of the undead horde, we 'will' win this fight. Remember Lordaeron! Now for ruin and hero we'll charge, until the final soul falls."

The words of the loved and respected king resounded in his people like a burning flame. A once nervous army was now loud and fierce. For the first time since the days of the first alliance of man and orc, a land stood united.

"Archers, mages and artillery, begin your volley!" shouted Varian to the top of the city gate.

The roar of magic and the thunder of guns shook the bridge in the valley of heroes and scores of undead infantry flew in all directions down range. The masses began their approach to the barred gates.

Up above, Callencia, Arhen, Kaonus, Drogin, Ignas and Zhor blasted magic into the hordes. Lightning, fire and water rained on the helpless corpses below, searing them to the bones and beyond. Arhen chanted holy text from his tome and instantly blessed arrows in flight, exponentially increasing their destructive power.

The artillery on either side below the bridge thundered endlessly and rained small bombs onto the undead scourge. Callencia blessed the mortars in flight and the cannons below, exponentially increasing their destructive power.

The remaining paladins channeled their magic together to create a concentrated ray of holy light, exponentially increasing their destructive power.

Over mounds of fallen comrades, the scourge drudged forward with ladders and a massive battering ram. Few ladders made it to the wall and fewer still were able to erect them. The ram, however, was wielded by a company of abominations. The abominations protected the ram by using themselves as meat shields, the smaller shielding the bigger. In no time at all, the ram began pounding into the gates.

"Hold the gates. Don't let this trash into the city!" shouted Novacon.

Upon the ram reaching the gate, dark magic began flying over the wall, corrupting all it touched. Callencia blocked a shadow bolt with her tower shield and Ignas dodged another. Novacon conjured a wide shield to lessen infantry vulnerability and cancelled out the dark magic for a few seconds.

The gate was becoming weaker with each passing thrust of the ram. The tireless scourge would soon be inside the city.

Arkerya paced restlessly. The sound of battle was no longer a dreaded noise, but instead a call to her. No longer was she afraid to fight. Her anger and hatred churned her stomach at the thought of waiting in the cathedral for the scourge to arrive. She knew that Solwein had gone in an attempt to best protect her, but it still felt more like he abandoned her.

_Stay here he says. Do as I say he says. Why is he being this way when I could help him? Why even bother bringing me to the city? _Arkerya continued to pace and drew the attention of the neurotic bishop Benedictus, who was easily agitated by these nervous habits.

It was almost as if she could feel his cold and repudiating stare on her. Though indignant at his arrogance, she couldn't help but sympathize. Unlike Solwein and the others, she was an untrained newcomer, inducted into the order on good faith. _The bishop must have a lot of contempt for me._

"Will you sit down? We've enough trouble with the current situation as it is without you walking back and forth making everyone even more anxious," Benedictus said. Arkerya didn't protest and did as he said.

In her mind, she occupied herself by trying to devise a plan to escape the chapel and join the others at the front. Futile as she knew it was, there was an almost insufferable burning in her heart to help in some way, a yearning to be useful if only for her own selfish reasons.

Solwein had been right about one thing. She wasn't a normal girl. Deep in her heart she could sense a meaning to her life that she hadn't had before and she had a pretty good idea what had caused it to manifest. The scourge experience had opened her eyes in a way that only something of equal or greater suffering can. She thought perhaps it was the call of the holy light, whatever that really was.

"Archbishop, may I ask you a question?" Arkerya said. Benedictus glanced her way and cocked an eyebrow. "What is it?" he replied.

"What is it that drives you forward? How does the light press you to do what you do?" Arkerya asked boldly. Benedictus's demeanor changed almost immediately from agitated to surprised. He walked over to the step Arkerya had sat on and sat down next to her, much to Arkerya's surprise.

"The holy light affects everyone in a different way. To explain to you how it drives me forward would most certainly confound and frustrate you. Only through soul searching and time can you really understand the way it affects you," he said.

"Please sir. Please tell me how the light entered your heart. I must know," Arkerya said back. Benedictus rubbed his chin. "With its omnipotent presence, it changes my perception of things. It presents me with a subliminal, yet indisputable, end goal that I can't ever hope to reach. Though my efforts may be futile, I know that there are many forces working to an opposite end and if I should falter in my endeavors, they would surely prevail," he said.

He sounded enlightened to Arkerya, as if he still knew something she didn't and wasn't telling the whole story. "That's all there is to tell really. The holy light works in mysterious ways and will inspire us to do things we would never do otherwise." Benedictus got up and faced the cathedral doors. "Solwein seems to have a great deal of faith in you, even against all the skepticism of his superiors and peers. You can bet the light has a hand in that as well," Benedictus said, once again sounding condescending.

Arkerya already knew why Solwein was doing what he was doing, but what she didn't know is to what end. She was sure that the scourge couldn't be stopped. In her mind the war was already lost and all living things would succumb to her fate eventually.

"All rampart troops abandon your positions! Join the front line and prepare for the gates to fall!" Novacon yelled over the roar of battle. Callencia gave one last shield bash to a dreadbone warrior and leaped to the bottom, followed shortly by the other paladins on top.

Together they lined up shoulder to shoulder and steadied their weapons. Zhor and Ignas hoisted their hammers over their shoulders and spread their stance in preparation for the incursion. Drogin swung his saber and bared his teeth. Novacon and Kaonus stilled their claymores in the ready position and Callencia braced herself behind her shield, long sword at the ready.

At last the gates came crashing down with one final push from the scourge. The paladins lashed out together. Callencia immediately leapt high in the air and crushed a ghoul on her way down under her shield. Ignas and Zhor worked in unison, smashing skull and bone in quick succession and consecrating the ground with every step.

Drogin, the fastest paladin in the current company, quickly rolled between the legs of an abomination while simultaneously slicing clear through the things left leg, followed closely by the right. As it fell the ground, Drogin jumped onto its back and thrust his sword into the back of its head.

Kaonus and Novacon also worked in unison. Utilizing their holy enchantment abilities, their blades burned bright gold and cleaved through undead flesh with ease. When given an opportunity to heal an injured footmen, one would cover for the other, allowing them to carry on the fight.

An abomination's meat cleaver crashed down where Callencia stood a split second before. She countered with a swift spin and slash from her freshly enchanted blade, putting a long gash into its arm. Behind her was a skeletal footman, which Drogin quickly vanquished with a holy shock of lightning.

Another abomination's club began its rapid descent toward Ignas. Together with Zhor, the two massively strong Draenei blocked the tree trunk sized club and heaved it aside, making way for their counter attack. "Hit it high, Ignas," Zhor shouted. Ignas heaved his hammer back and crashed it into the things chest while Zhor swung his own hammer like a croquet mallet. The abomination, crushed in whole by the two war hammers, fel to the ground, no longer functional.

With blinding speed, Drogin diced a small group of walking corpses into many pieces. Without missing a step he leapt headlong into the middle of the horde and consecrated the ground beneath him, sending over twenty corpses and bone soldiers to a fiery doom.

Novacon and Kaonus fought back to back, covering all advancing scourge in their vicinity with holy magic and viciously swinging their swords. In perfect unison they spun to face each other and clashed their blades together creating a small explosion of holy magic. The result was a momentary hole in the previously crowded area.

Callencia fell to the ground, wounded by an abomination. Four of her peers encircled her and the sixth healed her instantly with a quick holy spell.

Slowly but surely the scourge advanced and the battle had been taken to the heart of Stormwind's trade district. Determined to not allow the undead to advance further, Novacon let loose a technique he rarely used. He plunged his sword deep into the brick road at his feet, stunning the scourge long enough to conjure two hammers of light. With one in each hand, he spun around and around with great speed and absurd power. His unstoppable cyclone singlehandedly gained back lost ground and the choke point of Stormwind's entrance was maintained.

King Varian Wrynn saw this and quickly became competitive. "Oy, Master Novacon! I bet I can do better!" he bellowed. Novacon found his king's lack of seriousness disturbing, but relished in the idea of his huge swords spinning like his hammers had.

Wrynn's boasting was not unfounded. As the king of Stormwind began his own tornado of carnage, even more lost ground was regained. But silly, yet effective, tactics like this wouldn't hold off what was coming next.

"Gargoyles!" yelled a footman. Black stone monsters began their rapid descent into the streets, picking off dwarves and small men. The push on the scourge side resumed and a little more ground was lost.

A barrage of holy magic flew into the air at the gargoyles, but few hit their target. The winged terrors were agile and managed to dodge the better part of the magic. To add to their threat, corpses were now being launched out of the meat wagons outside the gates and the dreadbone giants had made their way to the front.

The paladins had focused their energy on thinning the massive waves of walking corpses and had successfully crippled their numbers, but the bone giants and gargoyles were beyond most of the footmen and cavalry. The giants began their rampage.

Novacon and Kaonus boldly charged the giant, but met only with a crushing blow that missed them by inches. Callencia, Zhor and Ignas lashed out together with holy shock spells that momentarily stunned two other giants.

The paladins were outmatched and the ground troops were helpless. With each passing minute, more and more troops were snatched up by the gargoyles. The scourge invasion of Tirisfal Glade was only an initial attack and not meant to be an unstoppable forward assault. This horde, however, was.

The sounds of battle were ringing louder and louder by the second from the city streets. Though Arkerya wasn't panicked, the familiar cries of a losing army was certainly taking its toll on her. Despair was setting in again as she mulled the idea of becoming a scourge again. _Bet this time there won't be anybody willing to give their life to bring me back._

Benedictus was looking worried. For the great power he wielded, it was apparently no match for what he surely knew was coming. Arkerya assumed that he could feel the presence of the plague and that he could also gauge the coming storm. She, on the other hand, didn't have to. She remembered the gravity of what lurked outside.

The more she thought of turning undead again, the more frantic she became. She drummed her fingers nervously and her eyes began to dart around the room looking for an escape that she already knew had been boarded up. The sounds of battle grew ever louder until a dull roar became loud shouting and distant ringing became shattering shields. The scourge was pushing into the cathedral district and drawing near to her and Solwein.

Hopelessness gripped her like a bitter wind. Desperate and forlorn, an impulse came to her. It was something she had never done before and never given much thought to boot. It had always been something left to the clergy or the paladins as they fought their wars far away. She turned around to face the altar and dropped to one knee.

She didn't know how to begin. A higher power was something she thought of as immaterial. _Um, I'm not sure who I'm praying to. I don't even know if I should be speaking out loud, but I hope that someone will... I hope someone will hear my plea. I've never shown any devotion to you, whatever or whoever you are. I don't know how to address you or if you require some kind of offering. I just... hope you're listening. There is a champion outside who will soon stand alone against many undead. He chose to stand alone and yet I yearn to help him in some way. O' holy light, bless him with the might to save us. Surely you can't have any love for the scourge, so save us. Give our champion the strength to save us all._

The situation was dire and the paladins were running out of options. All were exhausted and their holy power was all but spent. In a desperate attempt to halt the giants and the Necromancers had taken to the sky by the talons of the gargoyles and were raising fallen soldiers as they fell. Having withered the potency of holy magic among the living ranks, the frail but powerful bone wizards had advanced close enough to launch a magical attack. Once the holy ground of the cathedral district was defiled, the rest of Stormwind wouldn't stand a chance and would surely fall.

Solwein watched as the rear flank of the living army entered the cathedral courtyard. The stench of rotting corpses filled the air and made his stomach writhe. He had seen the bone giants before in Stratholme and was not at all happy to see them in full force. But unlike Arkerya, fear was not his enemy. It made him sharp and perceptive. He could feel it rising in him, making him stronger and faster. His magic swirling in his core and his muscles pulsing with the adrenaline in his veins.

He felt powerful, more powerful than ever before. This was his final push, the last march of Solwein of Lordaeron. Having left his home so long ago, the echoes of Lordaeron never really reached him. His heart was in the light and nowhere else and now the light was with him. He was about to die. He was about to truly live.

He pushed off with his right foot and charged the rear flank. He shoved his way past the rear echelons to find Novacon, Callencia, Ignas, Zhor, Drogin and Kaonus working tirelessly to keep one another alive while simultaneously fighting the scourge. Further left of them he spotted more paladins of his order. Tia, Peat, McDonagal, Dangiel and Natarazono were all fighting with the same tenacity and desperation.

Just as he reached the front of the formation to face the giants, the necromancers and the wizards, a sliver of grief tinged his mind. He knew that survival was secondary to victory and only if one was worthy to fight another day. Still, his friends were all fighting so valiantly for a cause that was clearly lost and a battle that he knew, in his heart, was unwinnable.

In his anguish, he failed to notice the silver glow gathering around his body and the wings of gold that spread from his back. All he could think about was giving it everything he had one last time. He found his first target and let loose a powerful swing of his sword.

The devastation was absolute. With only that single blow, a massive wave of holy magic flew from his blade sending a bone giant to the ground, utterly decimated. A platoon sized group of wizards and abominations went flying to the rear flank of the scourge horde.

The battle almost came to a standstill, including the presumably mindless scourge. The living army stared in disbelief of the impossible event that just took place. Solwein himself staggered backwards at his awesome feat.

"Don't stop! What are you waiting for? Send these wretches back to their master Solwein!" Wrynn yelled.

Solwein looked back to the scourge who immediately focused their full attention on him. The power coursing through him finally became palpable and the mighty paladin swung again. Two bone giants fell this time, leaving five that rushed toward him.

They were closer together now and with a third swing of his sword, Solwein obliterated them all at once. The Gargoyles made a move on him now and he swung upward furiously, inadvertently creating a tornado of holy lightning.

His footsteps shook the very ground each time he moved forward. Blue fire rose from the ground throughout the district that seemed to have no effect on the living, but catastrophic effects on the scourge. In his hand he created a hammer from holy magic that grew to a size implausible for one man to create. He heaved it into the scourges ranks and then resumed his relentless assault.

He was closer to the Liches in the rear of the scourges army and could hear them speaking now. They were ordering a retreat. _They're retreating. The SCOURGE is retreating. They'll not get away!_

In minutes, mere minutes, an undead army like the world had never seen lay unrecognizably annihilated on the city streets of Stormwind. By the feats of one man, the scourge had been defeated in whole. Not one single soul escaped the wrath of Solwein.

The remaining fighters gathered around Solwein. Nobody spoke a word as Novacon, Callencia and the king stepped forward to meet him. Solwein's wings faded into dust and the silver glow around him dulled and disappeared.

Boards fell off of the windows to the cathedral and Arkerya emerged first. She rushed past all the soldiers to the center of the circle. The eyes of all who knew who Solwein thought she was moved to her momentarily and then back to Solwein.

King Varian Wrynn dropped to one knee followed by the rest of the crowd. He spoke proudly. "All hail Solwein the Light Bringer. For the Alliance!"


	15. Chapter 14: Practice and Perseverance

Chapter 14

_How can this be?_ Solwein's thoughts had been racing ever since the victory in Stormwind. _Arkerya is the light bringer. Arkerya is! The prophet said I would find this one and I have. _Solwein had tried to plead his and Arkerya's case to the paladin lords and nobles, but their argument and decision was unanimous. Everyone had seen Solwein sprout the wings of an angel and glow with holy light.

The same day of the battle, Solwein had been given command of the Silver Hand. As the light bringer, he was automatically granted his seat of power. His faith in the prophet had been all but broken.

Solwein had also been contemplating what to do with Arkerya now that his plan was foiled. Relinquishing his oaths to the light wasn't an option and stepping down would surely break the spirit of any who sought to fight the scourge.

Solwein was in a bind. Solwein had been wondering a great deal about what he felt around Arkerya. Even when they were far apart, he could feel the holy connection between them. All of his meditation and contemplation had pointed to Arkerya being the light bringer. _So where did all that power come from?_

He hadn't had a chance to talk about it with any of his old comrades either. Everyone had began to treat Solwein differently. Even Kaonus wasn't acting like himself. _I need to talk to somebody besides these pompous politicians. I'm losing my mind here._

As though somebody was reading his mind, a knock came at his door. Solwein excitedly leapt from his bed side chair and flung the door open only to be disappointed. It was Arkerya, the last person he wanted to talk to right now.

"Master Solwein. I finally found you. I've been meaning to speak with you," she said, slightly out of breath. "It's about my training."

Solwein didn't have the heart to turn her away, though he tremendously wished he did. After a long pause and a few eager looks from Arkerya, Solwein reluctantly motioned her inside. "What is it Arkerya?" he asked in the most polite manner he could manage.

"I've been training under Callencia with Arhen. I learned to imbue my rapier with magic and I also learned to mold holy mana into another weapon. Callencia says I'm progressing at great speed," she said rather proudly.

"That's very good Arkerya. I'm sure you'll make a fine paladin one day," Solwein replied. An awkward silence followed. "Is that all you came to say?" Solwein asked anxiously.

Arkerya took a step back and spoke very nervously. "Well... you see... I was talking to Lady Callencia about it and she said it would be ok. That is if it's ok with you. I mean if you are willing..." Arkerya stammered. Solwein was feeling more and more antsy.

"What is it Arkerya? Spit it out," he said patiently. "Callencia said it would be ok if I trained under you instead of her," Arkerya said sheepishly. _I'm the new light bringer, there are higher ups breathing down my neck at all hours of the day and now I am supposed to train the one I know to be my superior? This is madness. Of course I'm willing to train you, but the politicians wouldn't know what to do about it._

Solwein was disheartened to learn of his supposed new power in that the prophet he so trusted had been wrong and that Arkerya was now a part of something she should have never had to endure.

He wanted to blurt everything out. He wanted to tell Arkerya about everything that had happened and who he thought she was. He longed to tell her in great detail how drawn to her he was and who she was surely destined to be. But Solwein had changed himself in the days since his transformation.

A fear had taken him. His faith in the light and the prophet had guided him far in his travels, but now that he didn't have the prophet, he felt as though he was picking at loose threads. He didn't know what to tell this girl.

"I'll consider it," he said curtly. Arkerya was visibly disappointed. Solwein felt bad, but he didn't know what else to say. "I promise to be diligent and hard working, Master Solwein. I'll give everything I have in the pursuit of justice," she said desperately. "I can find work and pay you for your services if that's what it takes," she said more desperately still.

Her words hurt Solwein. He wanted so badly to show her the way of the paladin, _his _way of the paladin. He wanted to believe in the prophet so much. The weight of the light bringer title was crushing him and Arkerya wasn't helping.

"I said I'll consider it!" he shouted. Arkerya's eyes widened and she took another step back, frightened at the imposing man's sudden outburst. Solwein started to shuffle nervously. "That is, I shall give thought to what is best for your training Arkerya," he said regretfully.

Arkerya was on the verge of tears. "Forgive me master. I have been to bold," she said as she turned and ran from his chambers. Solwein sighed and sat heavily onto his chair again.

_Idiot. Now you've driven her away._

Down the corridor, Arkerya slowed her pace to a slow walk. She wasn't sad. On the contrary. She had one goal in mind upon approaching Solwein. That goal was to gain power. After the invasion of Stormwind and her excruciating refuge in the cathedral, her hate and anger for Arthas had intensified exponentially.

She was tired of fearing him and every day that passed made her want his blood more. Callencia had been teaching her some things and she was catching on quickly. But after seeing the streets of Stormwind caked with undead blood and flesh, such training wasn't enough.

_Well that didn't go very well. Clearly he's not willing._ Arkerya left the keep and walked along the canals to Old Town where she and the "lesser" paladins were quartered. The only high ranking paladin who insisted on staying in the Old Town SI:7 barracks was Callencia, who had mentioned during light conversation that she can't stand to live among the nobles.

"It's the smell. I can't sleep a wink at night because of their infernal pipe tobacco," Callencia had said. Arkerya had grown fond of Callencia quickly. As the last shimmering ray of sunlight faded to a starry night sky, Arkerya reached the barracks.

In the common area downstairs, Dangiel and Natarazono were playing chess at a small table in the corner of the room. Natarazono was a man of meager stature. In heavy armor, he looks just the same as any other paladin, but without it, his bony physique and dull features became apparent. To add to his flimsy appearance, he was an unusually tall man at six feet and eight inches. His deep green eyes and graying hair made him look almost alien. Despite his outlandish appearance, Kaonus and Drogin had assured her that he was as powerful and ferocious in battle as any other Avatar of the Silver Hand.

Dangiel on the other hand had quite the opposite look about him. The draenei's skin was a sapphire blue and his eyes glowed white. There was neither a rugged feature about him nor an imperfection that could be seen. His black hooves shone like freshly shined leather and his teeth were as white as the snow. He was six feet and four inches tall, the average height for a draenei and stood proud and strong, the image of bodily perfection. Arkerya often caught the female draenei in the city peeking around the corner at Dangiel while they trained with Callencia.

In the center of the room, Arkerya spotted Peat, McDonagal, Arhen and Drogin sitting around the coffee table drinking ale and laughing excessively. Peat and McDonagal were two dwarves of almost identical personalities and looks. They were the best of friends and spent most of their time together, both in training and leisure. Their brown beards both touched the floor and their brown eyes and dark skin made it difficult to tell them apart at first. The only discerning factor was their voices. Peat had a very low voice and McDonagal had a very high voice. Both of them were very friendly and congenial in nature.

Arkerya had trained with all of them and more in the recent days. They were all quite powerful fighters, each in their own way. The diversity of the paladins was surprising to Arkerya. She had always figured them all as sword toting preachers in metal clothes, but they all had colorful personalities that she wouldn't have discerned if she hadn't spent time with them.

The only one she didn't see around was Tia, a blue eyed, five feet tall, dusty black haired woman. Tia was very reserved and didn't speak much. When she did speak though, her words were somewhat swallowed and her tone was guttural and low. Arkerya had never had a conversation with her and never saw her relaxing in the common area with the others.

At the window, she saw the one she was looking for. Callencia and Kaonus were conversing quietly about something. Kaonus had not been very happy since the incident five days before. Though he never trained with the lower ranking paladins, he did show himself sometimes at training sessions to participate with Callencia and could almost always be found relaxing in the common area every evening.

As of late, though, he had been quite somber. It was no secret why. Callencia looked back and noticed Arkerya. Callencia had become something of a mentor to Arkerya and had provided some much needed sympathy and understanding. Aside from her incessant mind reading, which only she seemed to be able to do, Arkerya had quickly grown very fond of her.

"Come over and talk with us, Arkerya," Callencia beckoned. Arkerya walked over to the window and leaned against the wall to face the other two. "Well? What did he say?" Callencia asked.

Arkerya bowed her head. "He said he'll consider it," she replied. Callencia blew a short sigh out of pursed lips. "You can't blame him. He's been under a great strain lately. I'm sure you know why," Callencia said consolingly.

Arkerya did know why, but she couldn't help feeling down about his dismissive behavior. "I'm sure he'll warm up to you. Just give him some time Arkerya," Callencia said.

"He was already warmed up to me. When we talked in the abbey and when we traveled back to Stormwind, he was very adamant about me and my travels. For the lights sake, he even went off alone in a major battle to protect me and me alone. He said I was the only hope for humanity or something like that. I don't know what that means, but whatever it means, it seems that he's forgotten all about it now," Arkerya said.

What Arkerya didn't know was that Callencia had spoken with Solwein about Arkerya and her significance. Callencia, unlike Solwein, dismissed it as some kind of misunderstanding and had accepted Solwein as her leader and the light bringer.

"He's forgotten about a lot of things," Kaonus said glumly. Callencia shot him a dirty look to which he responded by getting up and leaving for bed. "Poor Kaonus. He has to be feeling pretty sad about all of this, being his brother and all," Arkerya said, somewhat humbled by his plight.

"That he is. But he's a big boy and won't let it interfere with his business. He may be kind of an oaf, but he sure is proud to be a paladin," Callencia said. "You'll be like him one day you know," she said, smiling lightly.

Arkerya looked away, frustrated with Solwein. Callencia paused for a while and Arkerya picked up on her mental invasion. She had gotten quite good at detecting it as of late. "You're a sharp one. You caught me in the act. But if you won't talk to me and you won't let me read your mind, how are we to sort out what's bothering you?" Callencia said softly.

In truth, very few of Arkerya's thoughts were about Solwein. Her mind dwelled on her family, Arthas and her quest for the power to exact her revenge. "I know you come from strife. I can see it in your face day in and day out. If you're willing to talk, I'm willing to listen," Callencia said.

Arkerya was taken aback by her willingness to listen. She even felt comfort coming from this woman. With a nod, Arkerya took a seat and began her story. She spoke of Tirisfal at length and her fleeing of Lordaeron. She described the battle at the monastery, the death of her family and then an account of her transformation. By the end of her tale, most of the other paladins had gone to bed, leaving only the two of them, a bear rug and a dying fire in the fire place.

Callencia was staring into Arkerya's eyes, but not trying to invade her thoughts again. Her disposition had clearly changed from a little condescending to sympathetic in every way.

When Arkerya finished talking, Callencia didn't say anything for a long time. She sat, contemplating what she should say to this poor girl. "Arkerya... you have suffered an ordeal that a person like me could never imagine. If the scourge got to me, I would destroy my body with magic before they took me. But at the time, you knew no such thing. I simply can't fathom what it must have been like to be utterly helpless against such a gruesome situation," Callencia said, almost teary eyed.

"Vengeance is such an enticing option. It is said that and eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind, but when faced with the hate inspired by betrayal and murder, that tenet becomes more like idealism than wisdom. I ask this of you, if you would indulge me," Callencia leaned her head toward Arkerya.

"The light sympathizes with you, though for different reasons. Learn to use the light. Get to him and take your revenge in the name of the light. Follow Solwein the Light Bringer and aid him. Together, in righteous fury and in unison with the light we can bring him down. Abandon your chains of anger and replace them with a desire to do good. In this, you will not only get to Arthas; you will also find solace," Callencia said.

Arkerya didn't appreciate the impromptu lecture, but Callencia meant well and Arkerya could appreciate that. "Now get some sleep. You'll need to stay awake for your classes on mystic theory tomorrow," Callencia said.

"I'll go up in a minute," Arkerya replied. Callencia left the barracks and walked out into the night. Arkerya remained at the window, contemplating what Callencia had said and the best way to get to Arthas. Callencia's rhetoric was tiring and Arthas was upsetting.

Thoroughly unsatisfied, she left the window and ascended the stairs to the second floor and to her room. She shut and latched the door behind her and got undressed. She hastily brushed her hair a few times before falling into bed, her thoughts still dwelling on Arthas.

Her cheeks went red and she curled up into a ball under her covers. _Damn you Arthas. I hate you._ The hate burned in her stomach like a roaring bonfire. The loathing was so intense that it hurt. Tears started streaming slowly down her cheek and then to her pillow as she finally drifted off to sleep.

The night air was unusually cool for summer. Callencia had never cared for the heat that blew up from Stranglethorn's tropical paradise. In truth, she would have preferred to live in the mountains with the dwarves, though she'd rather not actually live 'in' the mountain.

The humidity reminded her of a mission she had led in Stranglethorn against a warlord with Solwein when he was first initiated into the order. _Kurzen? Yes that was his name. Kurzen..._

Though she was not particularly close to Solwein, the two of them shared unspoken respect for one another, if for very different reasons. Solwein always acknowledged her superiority in the ranks of their order, and Callencia valued, as most others did, Solwein's unusual knack for keeping a level head and making wise decisions.

As such, the two had good talks every now and then, when the need arose. After hearing the details of Arkerya's torment, she felt one of their deep conversations was required.

As she came to the end of the canals and into the face of the king's statue and the keep's grand staircase, she conveniently spotted Solwein sitting by his window, high in the castle.

_Why'd they have to put him up so damned high? They could have just as well set his quarters on the ground floor with the servants. I'll bet he would have preferred it. _The climb up the stone spiral staircase was indeed long and tiresome, even for the physically elite like Callencia. After a long climb full of anticipation, she made it to the top of the tower, but before she knocked, she tried to pick out Solwein's thoughts.

"I know you're out there Avatar," Solwein said from inside his chamber. _Damn._ "May I come in?" Callencia asked. "Enter," Solwein replied.

"How is it that you can always tell it's me?" Callencia asked playfully as she walked inside. "When you have a sixth sense like me, granted through vast wisdom and unequivocal prowess in all things mental, it's difficult to tune the presence of others out," Solwein said conceitedly.

"Is that so?" Callencia said coolly. "Not really, no. But I did see you walk in below," Solwein said. Callencia shook her head and tried to stifle a crooked smile. "So to what do I owe the pleasure?" Solwein asked, still staring out the window.

"It's about Arkerya," Callencia said bluntly. Solwein grumbled ever so quietly and turned to face Callencia. "I had a feeling it was," Solwein said lowly. "Why in the world would you send her to me of all people for training?"

"Because she and you have a bond, not that I have to tell you that," Callencia said. "Avatar..." Solwein started and then sighed. "Callencia, she's not the light bringer. I brought her here thinking she was the answer to the scourge. I asked everyone to go with me on faith to Northshire to see this simple village girl and they obliged me. All of this only to find out that she isn't anything that I said she was," Solwein said slightly frustrated.

"Not only do I not have the time to devote to training her properly, how am I supposed to face her? I haven't told her anything. Am I to just blurt out everything that has happened and hope she doesn't curse me where I stand? I started her down this path and now I find out that it's a dead end. I called her the light bringer! How dare I ask forgiveness for such a thing?" Solwein said, now pacing back and forth.

"What would Arkhel want you to do?" Callencia asked. "Arkhel... bah. He was a paladin lord. Don't get me wrong. He was powerful and wise and I have the utmost respect for him. But he didn't foresee this. He didn't tell me I would carry the title that Uther made legendary. I'm sure, like any good politician, he would tell me that the people are counting on me and I should forget all about some silly child who happens to get redeemed one day," Solwein said, his voice steadily getting louder.

"But the bond is there. However full of shame and indecisiveness you may be, you and Arkerya are linked together by holy chains. You can't deny it and you shouldn't ignore it," Callencia said.

A long silence gave both of them time to think. "I can't make the sword work," Solwein said, finally looking into Callencia's eyes. "I try and try, but nothing happens. The light bringer's blade doesn't appear. On top of that, I can't summon wings or harness the kind of power that manifested that day. I can't do anything that the light bringer is supposed to do."

"I don't have all the answers, Solwein. I wish I did, but I don't. Nobody does. But the way I see it, this is a test of your faith," Callencia said. "I would never tell you to press on without knowing for sure what weapons you have at your disposal, but I would also never tell you to do nothing instead," she said.

"But to tell you the truth, it scarcely matters what I would tell you anymore. You are the light bringer and therefore the man in charge. Regardless of what you may think, we all saw what happened outside the cathedral. We all saw you transform, right before our eyes, into..." Callencia hesitated. "...an angel!"

Ask anyone in tune with the light who was there. It wasn't normal and the feeling that it inspired brought King Varian Wrynn to his knee. The light chose you as its champion and as such, you have to decide what comes next,"

Callencia's words suddenly reminded Solwein of what the prophet had said about the choices he would have to make. _I can't make the right decision. Arkerya was supposed to be the light bringer, not me. How did this get so out of control?_

The compounding of Solwein's guilt for dragging Arkerya into his current catastrophe and his fear and frustration of being a false holy deity tested him every second of every day. With all the living people counting on him, putting their faith in him, there was no way he could back down and renounce his status. Aside from the people, the politicians would certainly have him excommunicated and banished from the kingdom of Stormwind.

"There are many people in this world who have nothing. No hope, no drive, no chance. I myself have very little and even less that truly holds a piece of my heart. What I do have can be taken away by a simple thief. But there is one thing, perhaps a paladins most impressive and resolute attribute, that cannot be taken from you, by force or otherwise," Callencia said sagely.

"Faith," Callencia said finally. "I will always have my faith in the light. No one, not the lich king himself, may take it from me. Only I have the power to lose faith," she said. "Only you have the power to lose faith."

"Hold on to it Solwein, for soon enough, it may be all you have," Callencia said. "Good night, High Lord," Callencia said as she turned and left. Her words and formal farewell impacted Solwein heavily. He knew she was right. The holy light had proven its worth time and again in the past for Solwein and countless times before him since the age of the titans.

The moon began to peek over his window sill and his eyes became heavy. The day, like the past few before it, had been filled with newspaper functions, ceremonies, politics and a general frustration with Solwein's inactivity. He was weary.

He fell backwards onto his elegant bed of silk sheets and a feather mattress, a far cry from the hay that he was so used to sleeping on in old town. The familiar itch on his back that a small piece of straw poking out of its sack was absent from the plush and comfortable feather mattress and pillow.

His simple life was no more. He was now bound to a name, a gift and a curse. By name, he was recognized as the most powerful living being in Azeroth. But with nearly absolute power comes the weight of the world, a weight that was crushing Solwein.

Weary eyes slowly twitched and then closed giving way for sweet blissful sleep. _At last, a break from this mayhem._

Arkerya was not at all in ship shape. The previous night, like many, had been filled with nightmares and then restless sleep, so she was barely awake as she donned her medium armor.

Upon fixing her hair into a rushed bun, she donned her breast plate and slung her rapier over her left shoulder. In a sheath that she and Master McDonagal had fashioned together, she tucked her elven short sword away.

She never really used it, however. When she had tried wielding it and the rapier at the same time, Callencia had harshly corrected her, stating that a Paladin requires only one weapon and a shield to overpower equal or greater foes.

She then tried using her tiny sword with her shield to find out that the short blade and a light buckler do not pair well with heavily armored opponents. Again, Callencia corrected her.

Eventually she was reduced to bringing it along for moral support, a sort of reminder of who she really fought for. Though she was unable to practice with the weapon she truly desires, her skill with a rapier had improved drastically. She was quick and precise in her thrusts and graceful with her movements.

Callencia, when she wasn't yelling, would sometimes work one on one with a recruit. During this time, Callencia would help the young paladin to be creative. Her rhetoric was all about how two paladins can never be the same and how through meditation and practice, one can develop a technique all their own.

It was in this category that Arkerya had excelled the most. Arkerya was of slim and slender body and through her many ventures with her brother and just playing in the woods, she had remained strong and durable.

Arkerya was the spitting image of an acrobat. Kaonus had once said that "it was a shame to burden her with heavy armor. Oh well. Such is the holy life." Arkerya was not amused.

For this reason, Arkerya, Callencia, Zhor, and Kaonus all put their heads together to figure out the best way to lighten Arkerya's armor.

Through intensive metal work, the size of her shoulder plates were drastically reduced. She had traded in her heavy steel boots for a pair of studded leather striders with knee shields. Her torso was protected by a heavy raiment. The raiment was made smaller than Arkerya's size, giving it a tight fit for maximum flexibility.

In her new medium armor, she could move quickly without fear of armor bearing down on her, she could see better and turn more quickly. She had even managed to learn to spring backward over one hand to evade an enemy's flurry of attacks, an ability she was quite proud of.

Ignas was the first to recognize this as a golden opportunity. After the training period was finished for the day, he asked Arkerya to remain behind. For hours that day, the two of them worked on a way to return from a back handspring to counter attack the opponent and in the end, they were successful.

Arkerya had been perfecting it for weeks now and all of the instructors had taken notice to her impressive learning ability. Upon landing from an evasive back handspring, Arkerya would leap forward and thrust rapidly in mid air, taking the opponent completely by surprise and throwing them off balance. She thought of it like a mocking bird attacking a nest robbing intruder.

It was thus that her rapier ceased to be called rapier and instead went by the name of Mocking Blade. She wondered often if she would ever be able to name her father's sword. It seemed that the last gift her dear family had given her bore enough importance to be given a name.

But at the end of the day, despite her ample attention and accelerated progress, the higher members of the order would go off elsewhere with their apprentices, leaving her to retire or practice on her own.

Her new lifestyle was harsh at times, particularly when Solwein was around. He seemed distant and unapproachable, as if something about her deeply troubled him. Arkerya hadn't given up on becoming his apprentice though. At the end of every day when the apprentices went away with their masters, she would think of him.

Arkerya shook the thoughts out of her head and strapped her armor down before hurrying down the stairs and out into the city streets toward the training grounds in Old Town. Upon reaching the grounds outside of SI:7, she was greeted by Drogin, one of her current least favorite paladins.

Arkerya's raiment was smaller than her size which made for a tight fit and also a shorter bottom skirt. Drogin had been making tons of tactless advances that usually ended up infuriating Callencia, though they more amused than angered Arkerya.

Drogin would then say something like "just kidding. Let's spar!" before trying to get the jump on Arkerya. He had only managed to get her once that way on his first try, but only once.

"Ahoy my lightly armored maiden! Your presence makes a dull and dreary day at least twice as bearable," he shouted loudly enough to attract attention and a few snickers.

"It's sunny outside Drogin. And besides, you're not going to fool me with that same old trick. I'm sure your nimble mind can come up with something more clever so stop pestering me every morning," she said coldly.

Drogin donned a mock frown and hunched down as if to appear pouty. "You'll come around. None can resist my dazzling charm for long," replied Drogin.

Arkerya rolled her eyes and strode over to an empty bench to wait for Callencia. The time before training commenced was the only time during the day that she ever really got to relax.

With her days full of exercise and combat training and her busy nights of study in the library, this scant and fleeting down time gave her a little time to think. The hate that burned in her every day wore away at her like a river erodes rock. Her morning relaxation was often spent wondering how exactly she was going to get to Arthas.

His whereabouts were unknown and his armies came from many places. The task of finding him alone was one she wasn't sure how to accomplish. _And once I do find him, what then? It isn't as if I can just sneak into his lair and cut his throat. He will be protected by legions of the dead._

Arkerya's brooding was sharply interrupted by the arrival of Callencia. "Fall in at wide interval," she shouted. The apprentices formed ranks and then spread themselves widely throughout the lawn.

The morning routine consisted of lots of stretching and light calisthenics, although the only one who called them such was Callencia. This morning routine almost left the recruits tired before they began their lessons for the day.

When the morning warm-up's were finished, Callencia ordered them all to pair up. "Today's training is fencing. You know the drill. Two handed weapons pair with other two handed weapons and vice versa. And no Drogin, you may not pair with Arkerya," she said loudly. Drogin hung his head.

The last time they practiced their fencing, Arkerya had paired with McDonagal, a dwarf who wielded a broad sword that was particularly broad. Aside from his huge, one handed weapon, McDonagal was known for his unusually hard hitting dwarven style. Arkerya had not been able to contend.

Still groggy from her lack of sleep, Arkerya scanned the area for a more suitable sparring partner. Most of the paladins used two handed claymores and more still had heavy maces and battle axes. The only other one handed fighters she had to choose from were Tia, McDonagal and Drogin.

Quickly ruling out Drogin, she started for Tia. "Pair up?" she asked. "Sure," Tia replied simply. Arkerya drew out her rapier and walked with Tia to a safe distance. The two squared off and tapped their blades together.

Tia's weapon was a scimitar and her shield a light buckler like Arkerya's, a decent match for Arkerya's rapier. Although the scimitar was a light weapon, it was considerably heavier than her lightning fast Mocking Blade.

_If I can get around her shield, I will most likely be able to outmaneuver her and then strike more quickly than she can react. _It occurred to Arkerya that she had never gone against an opponent who's fighting style was so similar to hers. Until Tia, she had been sparring with opponents of heavy armor and shield.

She always leaned toward outmaneuvering her opponent rather than attacking from the front. Tia also wore light armor, though not as light as Arkerya's, and would surely be a good match to hone her speed and precision.

Arkerya's mind had wandered and Tia spoke up. "Ready?" she asked. Arkerya assumed a good stance and squared off with Tia. "Ready," she said.

Tia opened aggressively with an overhead swing. The strike was much quicker than Arkerya had anticipated, but still easily blocked. Arkerya answered by heaving Tia back and throwing her off balance.

With Tia stunned for a moment, Arkerya side stepped to the right and swung for Tia's exposed left side. Instead of turning toward the incoming slash, Tia turned the opposite direction and arced her scimitar over head and behind her, blocking Arkerya's blow.

In one swift motion, Tia issued out another overhead slice, throwing Arkerya's weapon back and leaving her exposed. Arkerya barely got her shield in blocking position in time. Winded and surprised, she retreated to a safe distance.

"You are an excellent fencer, Tia. I'll have to remember that behind the back thing," Arkerya said, genuinely impressed.

"Thank you. It took me an extremely long time and many close calls to get the motion down. Practice hard before trying to perform it in combat," Tia replied.

Tia immediately thrust with great speed. Arkerya parried with her rapier. Tia thrust again in quick succession, forcing Arkerya to use her shield this time. Yet again Tia thrust, but this time Arkerya had nothing to block with.

Arkerya leapt backwards and upside down, grasping the grass with her left hand. Her feet swung over top and landed at the same time in perfect position. Tia was completely open. It was clear that the third thrust was supposed to connect when the first two failed.

In her zeal, she had put all of her body weight into that final thrust, sending her falling forward when she missed.

Arkerya pushed off with her nimble legs and flew toward an unprepared Tia. As quickly as she pushed off, she swung her sword around to where the pummel was in front and then she felt victory. The pummel, at personal combat range, clanked hard against Tia's breastplate.

Tia staggered backwards and then stopped, stunned at what had happened to her. "That is some serious footwork, Arkerya," Tia exclaimed. A soft applause rose in the training grounds. Arkerya and Tia had attracted an audience. Drogin was chanting Arkerya's name. Callencia punched him in the stomach.

"Most impressive, Arkerya!" Ignas chimed in from the courtyard entrance. He strode over and patted Arkerya hard on the back. "I dare say you have perfected a new technique," he said proudly.

"Thank you, Master Ignas. I thank you for your guidance," said Arkerya. Ignas smiled for a moment, but he stopped when he looked up at Callencia. "Callencia, my lady. I must speak with you. Please talk with me in private," Ignas said.

Callencia nodded and strode over to Ignas. "Physical training is canceled for the rest of the day. You are at liberty until 6:00 when evening study begins in the library," Ignas bellowed to everyone's surprise.

_What in the world is going on?_ "Does this happen often?" Arkerya asked Tia. "Only when a big move is coming. If I had to guess, I would say it has something to do with the battle in the north. I've heard that the Argent Dawn has endeavored to contain the plaguelands with some success. If they are calling for aide, Stormwind will almost surely answer," Tia answered.

"The Argent Dawn?" Arkerya asked, confused. "You've never heard of the Argent Dawn? Do you pay no attention to the history of the world? They are scarlet defectors turned righteous paladin order who's movement has offset the scourge in the north. They're heroes! I can't believe you don't know about them," Tia said.

"Scarlet defectors?" Arkerya said, still dumbfounded. "The Scarlet Crusade! They're fortress monastery was the last living bastion to fall in Tirisfal Glade. Since the loss of their lands, they've nearly tripled in size and have become hostile to anyone who is unwilling to join them," Tia continued.

"When Scarlet Highlord Alexandros Mograine died, the corruption of the crusade became apparent to some of its members and atrocities against living villages came to light. High Inquisitor Fairbanks was the one to make all of this public and he was later murdered for it. That's when the founders of the Argent Dawn defected," Tia said.

"Do you think we'll be called to arms against the crusade?" Arkerya asked. "Unlikely, at least for now. The Argent Dawn maintain some relations with them in order to prevent civil war," Tia replied.

"Civil war? That's crazy! Why would anyone want a civil war at a time like this?" Arkerya said. "The crusade has become a radical organization. Their fanatical followers try to destroy anything they deem even remotely evil. This applies to most non members. After the fall of Tirisfal, they declared total war on the scourge and any non Scarlet collaborators. In a nutshell, they said join or die," said Tia.

"I see. You sure do know your history. Are you a historian?" Arkerya asked. "Sort of," Tia said with just a slight hint of discomfort. Arkerya failed to notice. _I wonder what's going on._

Solwein sat anxiously at the top of a stage in the main council hall in the dwarven district. His morning had been a living hell from the very beginning. He woke that morning to his servants bringing a message that the king had summoned him.

The king had informed him that the scourge outbreak in the south had been dwindled to a token force. But that same small force had entrenched themselves in Duskwood and taken up guerilla tactics.

Furthermore, the Argent Dawn had gained a few small footholds throughout the plaguelands. They had called for reinforcements and now that the scourge in the south were no longer a true threat, the king had decided to send troops north.

The rest of the morning was spent listening to the report of two very haggard and worn out Argent messengers. When all of the masters arrived, Solwein, the king and top military leaders were going to brief them on the situation and then issue orders to mobilize.

When the messenger's report was finished, Solwein, the king and his top military leaders conferred to formulate a long term battle plan. When tactics had been agreed on, the call to council was sounded.

The impending meeting of military leaders and the paladin lords was to discuss tactics and troop deployment. All of the order's masters were in attendance except for Callencia and Ignas, whom Solwein had sent to retrieve her.

When the final two walked in, Wrynn called the council to order. Once all had taken their seats, the king made his opening statements.

"I am pleased to inform you who were remained in the city and surrounding settlements that the battle in the south had been most successful. The remaining scourge have been isolated in Duskwood. While it would take a great deal of time and manpower to eradicate them all, they pose no real threat to our now well fortified towns," Wrynn said.

"My lord, what of Darkshire? Has there been any word to their survival?" asked a paladin in the middle of the room.

"We believe the town of Darkshire to have been consumed by the scourge. The scourge entered our domain by way of the coast in Westfall. They snuck through the foothills and dug in at a cemetery in western Duskwood. The last patrol out of Duskwood never returned and none of our search parties have returned," Wrynn replied somberly.

"With the defense of Stormwind and the villages and garrison of Elwynn forest secure, it is time to turn our attention north. Master Solwein, will you please bring everyone up to speed?" Wrynn said.

Solwein laid out a large map of the Eastern Plaguelands on the wall behind him, securing it with two tacks.

"Along the road you will be able to see five towers. Heading East, you will encounter the towers Crown Guard, Light's Shield, Eastwall, Northpass and Plaguewood in that order. In the western portion of the plaguelands, a number of farming communities, including Andorhal, stand between the Crown Guard tower and the Argent Dawn's most southern garrison, Chillwind camp, just north of Tarren Mill," Solwein said.

"The most harrowing news from the north comes from Light's Hope Chapel in the far east. The necropolis of Naxxramas has retreated from sight to the north and has been replaced by an ebon necropolis. From this new fortress, the scourge is launching a heavy assault on the Scarlet Enclave at the eastern shores of the plaguelands. The ebon ranks are littered with death knights."

Solwein had caused a look of worry and restlessness. The crowd murmured to one another. King Wrynn banged his gavel.

"They have advanced all the way to Tyr's Hand and are projected to overrun the enclave. With the crusade out of the way, Light's hope will be a sitting duck. Since the ground on which it sits is holy, it is an indispensable asset so deep in enemy territory. Light's hope must not fall if we are to maintain our presence in the east," Solwein said.

Solwein's nerves were strained. He was addressing all of the paladin lords as the light bringer and they were all listening to him. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead.

"We shall divide our forces. Our main force will take the Deeprun tram to Ironforge where they will coagulate with our dwarven allies. Once the troops are ready to move out, they shall march north by way of Loch Modan all the way to Chillwind camp in northern Hilsbrad. From there, they shall assault Andorhal and attempt to retake the town," Solwein continued.

"A detachment consisting of Stormwind Navy and Marine forces will sail north and dock off shore at Light's Hope. Should the battle at Light's Hope be won, the forces there will reinforce the towers along the road and endeavor to retake various key locations and eventually Stratholme. Are there any questions?" Solwein finished.

The following questions were mostly answered by King Wrynn. In the end, the plan remained intact. With all questions answered, Wrynn gave the order to mobilize.

"By the end of the day, all individual orders shall be issued to small unit leaders. In ten days time, we march north to war.


	16. Chapter 15: Clarity And Reconciliation

Chapter 15

The market district was bustling with soldiers, volunteers and workers trying to get smith work done and purchase supplies. Novacon had called an all hands gathering that afternoon and broke the news of the northward warpath.

People were shoving and even brawling sometimes in order to gain a better position in line to the smithy. Arkerya had heard from Tia about the orders to march north in ten days. Arkerya was, if only for a moment, suspicious of how hard it was for Tia to contain her excitement.

As Tia had spoke, her armor could be heard clattering from her constant quivering. In her eyes there were no tears. In her voice there was no truth. Tia seemed all too eager to throw herself at the plague in the north.

Arkerya then quickly dismissed this notion, as she found herself feeling the same. In her mind she had realized the potential payback that she could dish out to the scourge was... exemplary. _I feel you Tia! I'm ready this time._

Arkerya had indeed begun to even hunger after the blood of her enemies, an animalistic trait she often feared herself for. Arkerya shook the thought from her head before thanking Tia and continuing on her way.

The line to the smithy was snaking its way from the market district to the cathedral district. Once Arkerya rounded the corner into the market square, the full length of the line came into view. Arkerya shuddered to think of being in the back.

Arkerya was however not on her way to the smith. Her newly issued weapon and armor was still in pristine condition and needed no work. Arkerya had had a revelation in the guild hall commons.

Due to the high potential of holy magic, most paladins didn't learn their magical art until later on in their training. The extent of her magic stopped at choosing a weapon and she didn't even fully understand that. Arkerya had come to the decision that if she was to be of any use to her allies, magic would be essential.

For this reason, she was on her way to the mage quarter of the city in search of a mage trainer by the name of Jennea Cannon to ask her for a crash course in magic. _If she can teach me anything at all, I'll take it. If I'm to make this paladin thing work, I have to be as prepared as I can._

Upon crossing the bridge in the western canals, Arkerya turned the corner into the mages quarter. The architecture of the quarter was very different from that of any other district in the city. There was so much magical energy in the air that Arkerya could actually smell it. The shops and tavern were constructed in a mystical sort of way and in the center of the quarter was a tower that stood almost as high as the keep.

Drogin, after much harassment, had informed Arkerya that Jennea spent most of her days enchanting in the tower. Arkerya climbed a long spiral staircase outside the tower to reach the entrance.

Inside, many mages and their apprentices were dueling one another and mixing potions. A few eyes wandered to Arkerya when she came in, but soon went back to practicing their art.

_Auburn hair, brown eyes... _Arkerya climbed higher and higher in the tower until she reached the very top. A woman in blue robes was on the other side of the room staring intently at a silver amulet.

Recognizing her from the description Drogin gave her, Arkerya strode over and spoke to her.

"Jennea Cannon?" she asked. The woman promptly held up her index finger without breaking eye contact with her amulet. Arkerya patiently waited and after a few minutes, the amulet started to shine more brightly than it did before.

Jennea broke her trance and finally greeted Arkerya back. "Yes, what is it?" she said. "I'm Arkerya and I have a request for you. I am a paladin in training and I don't know any magic at all. I was wonder-". "You want a crash course in magic?"

_Great, another mind reader. _"I knew you were here long before you approached me. What makes you think you can learn anything from me? I am proficient in frost magic and enchanting. I know nothing of the holy arts," she said gruffly.

"I know that, but I'm desperate. My trainer, Callencia, says that holy magic is taught later in training and-". "And you are worried about the worth of your abilities in the coming battle?" _Damn it all, why couldn't she just be a normal mage?_

"The first thing you must learn is that there is no such thing as a normal mage. Magic is, by definition, abnormal, so it is unfair to try and classify mages even if they practice in the same school. My mind reading is conditional with my training," Jennea said.

Arkerya grumbled at being read like a book, but said nothing. "I'm afraid I cannot help you with your holy magic, but I can teach you something about enchanting. Fundamental magic like enchanting can often strengthen other magical skills down the road in your education. If you are willing to learn, I'm willing to teach," Jennea said to Arkerya's delight.

"I am willing to learn. If you are indeed willing, please teach me," Arkerya said. "Not so fast, girl. Learning even basic magic usually takes months. Since time is short, your regiment will consist of grueling exercises that will accomplish a great deal of training at a cost," Jennea explained. _Cost? _"That's right, a cost. You will be plagued by fatigue every day and you will most likely endure a good amount of pain. Magic is very hard on the body," Jennea said.

Arkerya couldn't imagine how enchanting could put too much strain on anyone. It wasn't like actually casting spells. "What exactly about your training is going to hurt me?" Arkerya asked, dreading the answer. "Mana thistle," Jennea said.

"Normally, apprentice enchanters learn by repetition until they get it exactly right. With a few doses of the herb known as mana thistle, magical potential increases dramatically and the learning process shortens considerably. Herein lies the cost I mentioned. Mana thistle will leave you drained, hungry and most importantly, wanting more mana thistle," Jennea said.

Arkerya realized now the price she would have to pay. Magical addictions were worse than any alcohol or mundane herbal fixations and were widely feared, even in places like her hillside village home. A great deal of effort went into uprooting an outbreak of mage royal in her younger years and she had since been educated on the dangers of magical herbs.

"I'll do it," Arkerya blurted out. "I have little time and a lot of ground to make up. If I am to march to battle in ten days, I will need to be equipped with as many weapons as possible. I will do whatever you say, my mistress," Arkerya said, bowing in respect.

"Very well," said Jennea. "Your training starts immediately." Jennea walked over to a cupboard with many alchemical ingredients in it and pulled out a few stalks of white herb.

"Eat this. We first need to make sure you aren't allergic. I have an antidote so have no fear," Jennea said. Arkerya took one of the stalks and put it in her mouth. The ensuing chalky taste caused Arkerya to gag. She looked up at Jennea who motioned for her to swallow.

Against all of her instincts, Arkerya chewed the unsavory plant and managed to swallow it. Almost immediately, Arkerya felt very energetic. Her fingertips started to tingle and her alertness shot through the roof. She felt like she might hear a pin drop in Goldshire down the road.

Arkerya looked around and then looked at Jennea who returned a look of approval. "Very good. You show no adverse effects," she said as she turned to a different cupboard. This time she pulled out a copper rod and small pouch of glittering dust.

"This dust is the byproduct of disenchantment. When objects with magical properties are broken down, you end up with a mundane object, usually destroyed, and this kind of dust. The color and properties of the dust are dependent upon the strength of the enchantment. This is low level magic, so this simple dust should provide plenty of power," said Jennea.

"So what now?" Arkerya asked, genuinely intrigued. "Hold out your hands," Jennea replied. Jennea then poured a small amount of the strange dust into Arkerya's open palms.

"Rub your hands together and lather them in the dust," Jennea instructed. Once Arkerya had thoroughly dusted her hands, Jennea gave her the copper rod.

"This process is very simple enchanting. We will be aiming to inscribe a rune into the rod that will give it the potential to cast stronger enchantments into other items, much in the same way that wands cast spells," Jennea said.

"The incantation is 'potestatum'. Close your eyes now," Jennea continued. Arkerya closed her eyes and cleared her mind. "Now chant the incantation three times while attempting to pour mana from your body into the rod."

"Potestatum, potestatum, potestatum!" Arkerya said aloud. Nothing happened. "Focus! You must focus your energy on the rod and only the rod. All other things will disrupt the enchantment. Try again," Jennea barked.

"Potestatum, potestatum, potestatum!" said Arkerya again with more conviction this time. A single spark flew from her left hand and pricked her enough to produce a painful yelp from Arkerya.

"That was better. That was an indication that you are successfully moving the magic in your body to your hands. Concentration is the key. You must concentrate!" Jennea said. "Again."

"Potestatum, potestatum, potestatum!" Arkerya said vigorously.

Solwein sat at his desk in his quarters pouring over possible defense strategies and scenarios centered around Light's Hope chapel. He had committed all of his energy into making ready for the move to the north all day and still had much to do.

He and the king had had a long talk about the extent of Solwein's power. The king took the news that he couldn't produce wings or make the light bringers hilt work much better than Solwein had expected.

The king had said that such power should be used sparingly and both of them agreed that it was a good thing such might could only be produced in the most dire of situations. While that may have been good enough for the king, Solwein didn't like the idea of not understanding his own power.

Through many failed attempts, Solwein had decided that the light must have played a vital role in the procurement of his power. Solwein was slowly being convinced that he was in fact the light bringer and not Arkerya. But he wasn't totally convinced yet.

In the back of his mind, Solwein always kept the bond he shared with Arkerya in his thoughts. It baffled him, infuriated him even, that he didn't understand its purpose. Other than what the prophet had said, that was the only loose thread in the theory that he held the title and she did not.

It was only out of indecisiveness and shame that he didn't speak with Arkerya directly about this. He feared her spurning most of all, though he didn't know exactly why.

_This one will be a creature of the dark, one of his minions._ The words of the prophet played over and over inside Solwein's head, tugging at his last nerve. Arkerya was, in fact, one of Arthas's minions and he was not.

Additionally, the prophet had said that he would be the one to find the light bringer, not become the light bringer. The notion was inconceivable. The two scenarios couldn't coexist.

Solwein brooded about this regularly and usually consoled himself for the time being by telling himself that future events would reveal the answer to the puzzle. At least, that is what he hoped for.

Suddenly, there was a pounding on his door. "I asked not to be disturbed," Solwein said absentmindedly. "Your apprentice destroyed my tower!" came an angry voice from the other side. _My apprentice?_

"Enter," Solwein said. Arkerya, accompanied by an aging brunette in very dirty mage robes entered the room. "Arkerya here has burned most of my alchemical materials, frightened a dozen mages away and leveled the better part of the top floor in my tower," Jennea said.

Solwein threw his head back and widened his eyes in surprise. He looked at Arkerya, who had dark circles under her eyes and was shivering profusely. "What the bloody hell happened?" he demanded.

"She came to me wanting to learn about enchanting. I accepted her pledge of apprenticeship and we began a simple exercise this evening. In order to speed up her training, due to a lack of time, she agreed to ingest mana thistle. The result was an arcane explosion of great magnitude. I have two requests, sir paladin. I ask that you keep this one away from the mages quarter from now on and I ask that you teach her some control. Her magical potential rivals that of the arch mage and her self control is that of a small child," Jennea barked.

Solwein rubbed his chin, dumbfounded. "Very well, milady. I shall comply. Please leave me and... my apprentice to speak alone," Solwein said. Jennea bowed and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Arkerya stood as still as she could. Solwein cocked an eyebrow, still rubbing his chin. He started pacing, preoccupied with his thoughts. "Mana thistle, eh?" he remarked, stopping to look at the shivering girl. Arkerya nodded, clearly not feeling well.

"It will go away soon enough," said Solwein awkwardly. Solwein paced back and forth a few more times before speaking again. "Did you really blow up the mages tower?" Arkerya nodded slowly.

Solwein fought the urge to chuckle, unsuccessfully. Arkerya too couldn't fight the smile that appeared on her face. Solwein cleared his throat and put up a tough grimace. _You sure are full of surprises, Arkerya. _Solwein's thoughts drifted to the bond he felt growing stronger.

_This is a perfect opportunity to have a much needed talk with her._ Solwein impulsively decided the time to speak on her purpose there had come.

"Arkerya, I have a few things to say to you. I'm not sure how you'll react, but I hope you can forgive a young man's impetuous actions," Solwein said. Arkerya was taken aback by this. A look of worry spread across her face.

"Fear not, for you have done nothing to cause any trouble, other than... blowing up mage towers," Solwein snickered. "Forget about that. They can fix it in no time. No, I'm afraid that it is I who has caused trouble here," he said, sounding more serious.

Arkerya seemed interested in what Solwein had to say, but she still seemed nervous at the same time. "Arkerya, do you remember the bond I spoke to you about in the abbey?" Solwein asked.

"Yes. Have you discovered anything more about it?" she asked back. Solwein took a deep breath. "Arkerya, I haven't been very honest with you. I haven't told you everything I know. As long as I'm being honest, I must also tell you that I have been very wrong about a few things," Solwein said, exasperated.

Unlike when they first met, Arkerya was not wide eyed and wary at all. She had complete faith in Solwein, even though he had confessed his dishonesty. It crushed Solwein inside to break the news of his failure to her.

"The bond we share isn't the only reason I came to Northshire. I came in search of a certain kind of person. Young Arkerya, you possess the kind of magic that is written about. It is so potent that I can scarcely put into words is formidability. There were of course many other circumstances surrounding you that drove me to your side, but the intense magical concentration I was feeling is what really brought me to the abbey," Solwein said.

"When I got there, I was so happy to see you, so happy that I had found what I was looking for I didn't even think to question the decisions I was making. I didn't think things through," he said.

"When I looked into your eyes, I saw your destiny. But the trouble with trying to divine such a complex thing is the unpredictable nature of one's destiny. I am almost sure that I misread yours," he said, opening a trunk in the corner of the room.

From the trunk he pulled out the light bringers hilt. He returned to face Arkerya and held the hilt out to her.

Arkerya, still quivering from her withdrawal, looked at the hilt and then back at Solwein. "Take it," he said. Arkerya reached out with her hand and grasped the hilt. It was light and well wrapped. As Solwein let go, Arkerya stared into the old hilt and breathed deeply. Nothing happened.

Solwein hung his head. "That hilt is said to conjure a blade, bludgeon or any other form of lethal weapon at the discretion of the light bringer," he said. Arkerya looked at the hilt and then back to Solwein. "Then why did you give it to me?" Arkerya asked.

Solwein closed his eyes somberly as the truth was finally revealed to Arkerya. "Me? But I'm not..." she started. "Now you know. That's why I came to you, Arkerya. I thought you were the light bringer. I have started you down this path of war and suffering for no good reason. Forgive me," he said shamefully.

Arkerya shifted on her feet. "Master Solwein, I... I have a secret of my own," Arkerya said. Solwein looked at her inquisitively. "I'm not here because I want to wage some holy crusade. I'm not here to save the world. In fact, I'm not even really here to save myself. I seek Arthas's head. That is why I came with you to Stormwind," she said, unable to look into Solwein's eyes.

"I don't understand the light or the paladin way and when it comes down to it, I don't really care. I need power if I am to meet and defeat Arthas in battle one day. I... saw this as a means to an end. I'm sorry, Solwein. I'm not your light bringer," she said.

Solwein wanted to feel relieved that Arkerya had not lashed out at him, but as the bleakness of Arkerya's existence came to light, he couldn't help feeling more pity and self reproach than relief.

"I want to be happy here, master Solwein. I feel like the order has been more than welcoming and I have learned a great deal about personal combat here. I am grateful to say the least, but you must understand that I've been to hell and back. Arthas plagues my thoughts day and night. In my dreams, he comes as a vivid reminder of what happened to my family. In the day, he burns like fire in my gut, forcing me to loathe him endlessly," Arkerya said.

"Once you've traveled in the darkness, once you've suffered a fate worse than death, there is no going back, no regaining the life you had before. You are doomed to a half life, a life in which you serve your vengeance and only that. It is for this reason only that I remain here. I need to become strong. That is why I want you to teach me, master, because you are the light bringer, because you are strong," she said darkly.

Solwein's shame had intensified. He was feeling particularly crestfallen about the confidence he had put in Arkerya. The bond he had been feeling tugged at his heartstrings, sending him deeper into his regret. _A means to an end._

"It seems I was wrong about more than I thought. I know now that I did misread your destiny, for the light would surely never choose a selfish individual like you to be its champion," he said coldly.

"Master, please. I want what you want. Please show me the way of the paladin so that I can help-"

"The way of the paladin lies not in the path of blind hatred and personal vengeance," Solwein said, cutting Arkerya off. "If what you say is true, you have no place in my company or in this paladin order. Make no mistake. I want the salvation of my people. I do not act on vendettas nor do any other paladins in this order. You and I do NOT want the same thing. I was wrong to come to Northshire."

"But I-" she started.

"You are dismissed, Arkerya. Do not return to me," he said, turning away from her toward the window.

Arkerya hung her head, dejected, and turned to leave the room for her own quarters. Tears welled in her eyes as she turned to look at Solwein one last time before starting down the corridor to the stairs.

Solwein slammed the door shut behind her. _I can't believe how careless I've been. At least now there is no doubt. I AM the light bringer._

As though an invisible force could tell what he was thinking, the ever present connection he felt to Arkerya flared in his chest, causing him to sit down absent mindedly on his bed.

_Even now, knowing her for what she is, I can't shake this feeling. Curses._

Solwein wearily lay down on his bed, kicking his boots off onto the floor. Unable to get Arkerya off of his mind, he tossed and turned before drifting off to restless sleep.

The skies were black. The clouds above Arkerya had turned black and dark and lightning began to shoot out. Her surroundings were obscured by a colossal whirlwind, encasing several small rock formations above a seemingly endlessly deep ocean. In the middle was sure to be the area in The Great Sea known as The Maelstrom.

She stood precariously on a sheer cliff that seemed quite unstable. With every tidal wave that crashed into the bottom of her cliff formation, a little bit of the pillar was worn away.

The rushing whirlpool, stretching for miles in all directions, wore the surrounding rocks down with increasing speed. It wouldn't be long before Arkerya would run out of standing room.

Suddenly from down below, there came the visages of four spirits, each a member of her deceased family.

_Father! Oh my Father! How I've missed you. I thought Arthas got you. I was sure that you fell to the worst fate. But you're here! In my arms... _Arkerya stepped ever closer to the edge, trying desperately to embrace her father.

She reached out far to meet her father's open arms until she was only inches from his warm embrace. But the feeling wasn't warmth or joy. In fact, it wasn't anything. It was as if everything had left her presence leaving no trace of life, ground or existence. The void stretched on forever and the more she stared into it, the more it consumed her.

All of her body would soon be free of the cliff. A fools hope remained in Arkerya's mind that her father would reach out and save her. But the void crept ever onward toward her left arm and then up to her elbow. Soon, the blackness encased her body, then her legs, then her chest and neck. Before long the void had darkened her vision to the blackest black.

The darkness had almost consumed her. It traveled up her remaining free arm to her index finger, the only part of her body that could feel anything anymore. The final vestiges of hope in her mind began to fade away.

And then it came! A warm hand clasped hers as hard as it could and a strong arm and determined body heaved her from the void and cast it away.

It was not her father, however. Solwein of Lordaeron stood before her, his hand extended as a life line to hers. She looked back to see 4 corpses of her family aligned exactly as they were before in life. They were illusions to draw her in and she had fallen for it.

_How can I beat Arthas if I can't keep my feet under pressure. Solwein had to save me again and he may not be there when I reach the lich king. Even though he knows I'm a failure as a paladin, even though he hates me, he still saved me. Why?_

Arkerya wasn't ungrateful to Solwein. On the contrary, she was thrilled and truly thankful. He and Grudamere had lifted her from the void from which there was no return. She failed once before and almost a second time. Her survival of both ordeals involved Solwein's saving grace.

Arkerya had felt remorse before, but it was at this point that she began to truly repent. The images of the order's paladins entered her mind, their warm and colorful personalities restoring her sanity. Despair began to dissipate, giving way to a newfound affection.

_Perhaps I felt this way all along. Perhaps I let hate blind me to what is truly important._

Arkerya felt an affection for Solwein that she hadn't felt before. Whereas he was once her master and mentor, he was now a friend and a brother in arms. Her faith in him had solidified into what she wanted to be friendship.

Arthas entered her mind again, but this time it was different. The image that came to mind was that of Solwein and her standing together against the lich king, side by side.

_What a fool I've been. _A somber smile spread across her face and a warm feeling that she hadn't known since the days she spent as a baker on a quiet, hillside village. She knew what she had to do. Her second chance would be spent standing strong against her enemy at Solwein's side.

Her hate was burning again. She always felt it in her stomach first, a deep seated seed of anger that blossomed eternally through her body. It would singe her soul if such a thing were possible. Solwein's warm presence acted against this mentality. Where before there was only a raging desire to collect Arthas's head, there was now a companion to help see her through.

As such, it was Solwein's soothing voice snapped her out of her trance and back to the cliff where she started. The wind had died down and the maelstrom had settled to a bearable current. "I will lead you to him. We will do this together, for the right reasons," he said calmly.

At long last her body cooled and the hate receded back under her control. In relief, she fell to one knee and hung her head, weary from her intense experience with the raging Maelstrom.

Solwein let go of her hand leaving her safely on dry and stable land. He turned from her and began walking up a beach that had appeared behind him. _Master Solwein, I will repent to you. I will let go of my anger and follow the way of the paladin, the way of the light bringer. I will devote myself to your teachings. Forgive my ill intentions before._

Arkerya raised her head to see a sun rising on the eastern horizon. _Clarity at last. Alright! I believe in you Solwein._

As sleep cradled him slowly downward into his quiet warm bed, Solwein eventually drifted into a dream. With the state of mind that he perfected every day, he slipped away from the dream's control into a lucid state. With the intense focus of his mind, Solwein had learned to make most of his dreams like this.

In his current state, Solwein possessed no real control over the dream. Instead, he remained a free spectator, able to go to any spot and any angle so long as it didn't interfere with the dream's elements. From his own private world, he both watched his dream unfold and guarded it from outside influence.

To a man like Solwein, sleep was the ultimate meditation. In his thoughts, no one who he didn't approve of ever had any influence. He was free to think deeply and while one sleeps, thoughts become material and play out before the dreamer's eyes.

For a long while, Solwein lazily drifted from memories of old and silly recollections before coming into a vivid depiction of a stormy sea. Solwein was high above the water, overlooking an outcropping of rocks.

_A gale force wind. A fitting metaphor for the day's events._ As he said the words "gale force wind" to himself, the great wind picked up, nearly blowing an unprepared Solwein off of his feet.

Further out to sea, just beyond the rocks, a great Maelstrom appeared, quickly swallowing the surrounding rock formations. In the midst of the rocks he spotted a person. He was so high above the rocks that he could not tell who it was.

From his cliff he leapt toward the rocks. He plummeted to the waters below and a formation of exposed cliffs. The rocks were his target.

As fast as he could he leapt from spire to spire, hale and thunder threatening to knock him off his feet into the raging waters below. _I can 'feel' the hale and rain. This isn't a normal dream._ _I had better be careful not to fall into the water. _

In his dream state, Solwein's nimbleness served him well as the weight of his armor seemed inconsequential which made him wonder why the other elements of his dream seemed so real. _Am I not in control here?_

As quickly as he could he leapt closer to the person who he could now recognize as Arkerya. In front of her were four specters, a man, a woman, a boy and a baby. Arkerya began walking forward toward the edge of the cliff and reached out to the ghostly man.

Solwein instinctively lunged forward and off of his spire to help her, but long before he reached Arkerya he saw a figure approach her from behind out of nowhere. To Solwein's surprise, the man was none other than Solwein himself.

The imposter caught Arkerya by the wrist and heaved her back onto dry land. Arkerya fell to her knee, muttered something under her breath and then disappeared.

The image of Solwein remained, frozen in place. The real Solwein made one last leap to the spire where the doppelganger stood in place. As Solwein approached him, the imposter turned around and revealed his true identity.

"She is the light bringer," the prophet said staring into Solwein's eyes. "You must have faith and not abandon her for only through her can you achieve victory."

"But all of what's left of mankind thinks I'm the light bringer. I slew an army of five thousand at least nearly on my own using a perfectly ordinary sword. She can't cast simple magic, her swordplay is amateur at best and she's emotionally unstable. How am I supposed to put my faith in that?" Solwein asked at a loss.

"Put your faith not in her," the prophet said. "But in the holy light. Trust it to guide you and her to the destination that fate has decided upon," the prophet replied. "I told you before, she is formidable and the light will not abandon her. But even the light bringer, as you know, is mortal. She needs you to make it to her destined fate. She needs you to drive her forward. It is your destiny."

Solwein wanted more than anything to put his faith in her. He wanted to put his faith in anything if it would relieve him of this unbearable situation. He knew that the victory at Stormwind was a major blow to the scourge in Azeroth, but somewhere, Arthas was rebuilding what he'd lost.

"She admitted to me that she had ill intentions in coming to Stormwind. She cares only for her own selfish retribution. The way of the paladin does not include personal reprisal. It is a selfless existence. To ask me to put my confidence in that is madness," Solwein said desperately.

"I ask you, again, to put your faith in the light. To not put your confidence in that is madness. You are letting your shame and self righteousness blind you, Solwein. Please do not go the path of the man who came before you," the prophet said.

"And who is this man, prophet? You speak of him as though he had great potential, but suddenly decided you were a fool and turned against you. You speak as though my predecessor simply turned a blind eye to what was obviously right. If I am to resolve myself to this young girl who can't even cast a spell, am I to do it simply because you say it's right? Maybe it is you who is turning a blind eye to what is right. Maybe you are what drove my predecessor from what is right," Solwein snapped.

The prophet turned away, staring out over the great maelstrom. "You know, young paladin, the shamans of Kalimdor believe that the maelstrom is the soul of the earth. When it is tranquil, as you see it now, their mother earth is at peace. When it rages, as you saw before, it yearns to return to peace," the prophet said solemnly.

"Your soul is in turmoil, Solwein. I understand your plight. The false title you carry must surely weigh on your conscience heavily. I cannot tell you how to come to terms with it. That is something you must find out for yourself," said the prophet.

"But find out you must, for if you do not, your soul will remain turbulent and restless, even in death, just as the last man's soul is." The prophet paused and turned to face Solwein again.

"Do you remember what you said to me in Durotar, Solwein? I told you that the last man did not listen to me and you exclaimed to me that man was a fool," said the prophet. Solwein grimaced and looked away. "You didn't and still don't know how right you were, Solwein. The last man that I speak of is none other than Arthas Menethil himself," the prophet said, hiding his eyes under his feathery hood.

Solwein had not been prepared for that. The prophets words stung. "It was his patriotism that drove him to pursue Kel'Thuzad and it was his zeal that drove him into madness. When Frostmourn took hold of him, all vestiges of humanity were driven from him and he became the death knight you know and eventually the lich king. Arthas was never blind to the truth. He was only a victim of his own valor. He put his faith in himself and used the light like a weapon. You know this to be wrong. Please, young Solwein, don't start down the path of Arthas," the prophet said, almost pleadingly. "All living things depend you Arkerya and Arkerya depends on you."

Solwein's anger had subsided into humility. He had forgotten that his faith once lied solely in the holy light. He had forgotten who he was. _I am a paladin of the holy light. The prophet is wise. I can't act on my frustration and anger any more. The fate of the world relies on it._

Solwein looked up again into the prophets dark hood with a newfound resolution and spoke in ultimate understanding.

"I think I know what we must do. Arthas must be found and defeated personally. With each living man that falls to the scourge, their ranks grow larger. We must cut off the head of the snake. I believe you prophet. If all of our fates rely on Arkerya, then I shall work only to make her strong. I only hope that I myself am strong enough to succeed," Solwein said.

"Good to see you're still with us, Solwein," the prophet said, grinning lightly under his feathery hood. "I wish you luck, holy harbinger. I shall be seeing you again," the prophet said.

The world around him began to swirl and fade before dissolving altogether into Solwein's room. _Clarity at last. Alright! I believe in you Arkerya._

The next morning, Arkerya awoke from an unusually good night's sleep to Solwein pounding on her door at the crack of dawn. "Arkerya? Are you awake?" Solwein called from behind the locked door.

Arkerya rolled over lazily and sat up on the side of her bed. Still half way asleep, she dragged her feet to her door and unlatched the bar. Solwein stood outside looking apologetic. "May I come in?" he asked. Arkerya nodded and opened the door for him.

Solwein strode inside and set the candle he was carrying on the nightstand. "Arkerya, I ha-" he started, but was immediately interrupted by Arkerya. "Master Solwein, I'm sorry," she said. "It was wrong of me to attempt to use you the way I did. I know what I said last night and I regret it more now than I can say. I had a dream last night. I stood upon the brink of the maelstrom. I was looking out over it and the ground beneath me shook and swayed as my family appeared before me," she said.

Solwein nodded in understanding as she continued. "I reached out to my father. I so desperately wanted to get to him, to hold him in my arms again, so I leaned out over the side of the cliff. I fell into the maelstrom and it was as though an icy hand grasped my body, taking away any warmth the world had to offer. I despaired. As the blackness took me, a hand took mine and banished my sorrow. The hand was yours, master," she said, looking deep into Solwein's eyes.

"When I turned around, I saw the corpses of my family. It had been an illusion to trick me and if not for you, I would have succumbed to the darkness," she said.

"You saved me. As Grudamere redeemed me, you brought me here and showed me a way of life that I took for granted. You gave me a new home and family. You gave me a real reason to fight. You have granted me a new purpose. I am eternally grateful. Forgive my selfishness, please," she said, putting her hands on Solwein's shoulders.

Solwein couldn't help himself. It hadn't occurred to him that the prophet might be tampering with Arkerya's dreams as well. He embraced Arkerya and pulled her close. "There is nothing to forgive," he said, feeling close to his apprentice.

Solwein felt as if a boulder had been lifted from his shoulders. _Thank the light._ "Arkerya, regardless of who the light bringer really is, I know one thing that is for sure. I am not blind to the fury inside of you. I said once before, you are pure of heart, and my opinion has not changed. The bond between us could not be so strong were you tainted by true hate. The fire burning in you is one of righteous fury, the very thing that gives many paladins the will to fight on. It dwells in my heart as well and together, I know we can one day return our souls to peace, together," Solwein said.

The two released each other from their embrace and gazed into each others' eyes. Solwein, feeling a little embarrassed now, looked away as he scratched the back of his head and spoke.

"There are only nine days left until it's time to move out. There's no time for rising late. Get changed and lets be on our way," he said commandingly.

"Where would we be going at this time of day?" Arkerya mumbled as she stumbled behind her changing curtain. "To the lake to practice magic of course. You heard the mage yesterday. You need to learn control and only a paladin can teach control to a person like you. I expect you outside, fully armored and ready for training in half an hour," he said.

Arkerya's face lit up anew as Solwein left the room. She undressed and redressed in her daytime undergarments before going to her armor rack to suit up. Once garbed, Arkerya strapped down her mocking blade, tucked her short sword into her boot and ran downstairs to meet Solwein in the commons.

He was sitting in a rocking chair before the fireplace and had a large sack of something on the table. Upon seeing Arkerya, he immediately opened the sack and removed lots of spice bread, bacon, sausages, two flasks of water, an assortment of fruit and two flanks of boar meat, which he promptly began roasting on the freshly rekindled fire.

"Consider it an informal apology. You'll need a full belly if you're going to perform today. Healing spells take a lot of mana so eat hearty," he said, digging in while Arkerya sat down.

"Healing magic?" Arkerya said inquisitively. "That's right. Arkhel refused to teach me anything else before I mastered my healing. He always said it was our greatest power and considering how many times it has saved my skin, I'm inclined to agree," said Solwein.

Arkerya nodded to herself and took a banana from the pile of fruit. "It is also because no matter how powerful the spell, healing magic can only create. You certainly won't be able to heal anyone to death, mana thistle or not," Solwein said.

"Is healing magic difficult to learn?" Arkerya asked taking a bite from her banana. "It depends greatly upon one's affinity for magic and one's intellect. Magic is almost one hundred percent mental and requires intense concentration and problem solving. When you get the hang of controlling your mana flow, you'll understand what I mean by problem solving," Solwein explained.

Arkerya took some spice bread from the bounty and took a big bite. "Do you think I'll be able to master healing before it's time to leave?" Arkerya asked hopefully. "Callencia told me that her hunch was correct about you on the day you arrived. When I heard that you stopped at the armory and selected a weapon without even knowing what you were doing, I was outright stunned. You personally have a great affinity for magic, but as with most cases of high volume mana pools, you lack control. I have no doubt you'll be able to master healing in no time. It's the more dangerous spells like consecrating the ground that worry me," Solwein replied.

_I wonder if he's exaggerating. Surely I can't be all that dangerous. I mean, I did destroy the mages tower, but that was the result of the mana thistle, right? _Arkerya looked over at Solwein, quickly becoming nervous about the days training to come.

"If all goes well, I anticipate you'll be able to master healing and at least begin to understand a destructive spell before we leave. At the very worst, I can teach you cleansing magic instead. Either way you will be exponentially more prepared for battle than you were before," Solwein said, noticing a grimace forming on Arkerya's face when he mentioned battle.

_Battle... I hope I'm ready for this._ "Does the thought of battle frighten you?" Solwein asked commiseratively. "It terrifies me, but for all my apprehensiveness, I feel almost eager. I've seen what the scourge can do and the thought of returning to that is horrifying. Even still, there is a part of me that wants to meet them in battle, even if it means fighting the good fight and losing. I can't explain it," Arkerya said.

Solwein looked into the fire, seemingly drifting into thought. "Me too, Arkerya," he said sympathetically. Solwein got up and removed the meat flanks from their hooks and set one on Arkerya's plate. They ate in silence for the rest of the meal and then travelled out of the city.

As they passed through the valley of heroes, Arkerya thought to herself about her attempt at magic before. _What was that word? _Arkerya ran through a list of gibberish in her mind trying to remember the incantation to instill runes into a copper rod. _Protestatum? Or was it postratum? _Arkerya scratched her head in frustration. _Pretestim, prostruthum... _"I remember now! Potestatum!" she said aloud absentmindedly.

A bolt of electricity flew from her clenched fist into the great stone bridge's railing, causing bits of stone to go flying off the to the side and into the moat below. Solwein jerked his head around and glared at Arkerya.

Surprised and utterly embarrassed, Arkerya hung her head. "Forgive me. I didn't-" she started. The mood had suddenly become very awkward in the valley of heroes.

"Rule number one, Arkerya. Never cast magic without a target. Free flying magic is unpredictable and can change into something more destructive on its own. Your target should almost always be yourself, the ground, or the enemy," Solwein said, never slowing his stride.

"I'm sorry, master," Arkerya said. "Try not to blow us up before we reach the lake," Solwein said half tentatively. When they reached the city gates, they turned west and walked along the city walls until they came to a waterfall that fed a large pool of water below.

"This is Mirror Lake. Are you ready to begin?" Solwein asked. "Yes sir! Teach me," Arkerya replied. "Very well. Before we begin, it bears mentioning that most magic can be done without speaking. It is however a great deal easier to learn a new spell if you know the incantation," Solwein said.

"The incantation for a holy healing spell is 'sana'." Solwein removed his glove and presented his hand to Arkerya. Solwein's hand lit up in a beautiful golden glow that radiated warmth and a sort of serenity. Arkerya was impressed.

"Place your palm on mine and attempt to cast the spell," Solwein instructed, turning his hand over. Arkerya looked at Solwein's hand and then quickly away, blushing slightly. "Well?" he said. Arkerya looked back at his hand and hesitantly put her palm into his. "Sana," she said loudly and resolutely. Her hands felt slightly warmer than before, but the effectiveness of her spell wasn't visible.

"That was a good first attempt, but you're radiating a great deal of mana out of other parts of your body. Feel the mana. Breathe deeply and try to feel the energy flowing inside of you. Then, try to send it to your hand when you cast the spell," Solwein said.

Arkerya took a deep breath and then tried again. "Sana!" she said again. This time, her hand began to glow a faint gold color. Arkerya smiled and looked up at Solwein.

"That was better, but you are still losing much of your spell power," Solwein said. "Close your eyes and try to sense your energy flow. You can do it," he said.

Arkerya sighed heavily and closed her eyes. She didn't really get the concept of sensing her mana inside her body, but the first thing that came to mind was blue smoke. She imagined that the mana inside of her must have been moving. The smoke in her mind swirled and darted around, almost like it was dancing.

She imagined the pretty blue smoke receding to the middle of her vision and then shooting out in the direction of her choice. "That's it! Your mana flow has changed. Keep doing what you're doing," Solwein said.

Arkerya concentrated on making the smoke turn gold and then moving to her hand. "Sana," she said. This time, her hand glowed much more vibrantly than before. "Very good. Now do it again," Solwein said.

Arkerya spent an hour casting the same healing spell over and over again. It seemed to her that she had gotten it down, but Solwein kept protesting that she was still casting inefficient spells.

After a while, Solwein told Arkerya to try casting without an incantation. This proved much more difficult. No matter how much she tried, Arkerya couldn't produce more than a feeble spark from her fingers.

"Never mind that. I didn't expect you would get it as quickly. Still, you should practice that on your own. It would be ok to practice anywhere really; just don't go trying anything else indoors or in a crowd," Solwein said.

After a few more particularly successful attempts at casting with an incantation, Solwein finally moved on. "This was a very successful exercise. You're spells are quite potent, if a little wild and diffuse. I think it is safe... well," Solwein paused. "...safer to try a destructive spell," he finished.

"Don't get me wrong, Arkerya. You're doing very well. Not all people are able to cast a semi decent healing spell on their first day. If we weren't so pressed for time, I would want to spend more time learning the rest of the healing school before moving on. But I think you should know at least how to consecrate the ground before we throw you to the wolves," said Solwein.

Arkerya was unsettled by the expression. "Alright then. The incantation for consecration is 'devetaten'. This spell comes out of your foot and is best used when battling multiple enemies on all sides. The area of effect and of course the spell power is dependent on the quality of the spell and the power behind the caster. It helps to stomp the ground when you cast. Go ahead and try it," Solwein said.

Arkerya bent her knees and steadied for her first attempt. "Devetaten," she shouted. A narrow crack instantly appeared before her. The crack traveled forward, narrowly missing Solwein and hit a tree, setting it ablaze.

Solwein, wide eyed, blinked at Arkerya, switching his gaze between her and the tree she had destroyed. "I think I'll observe you at a distance," he said.

Solwein walked over fifty meters away and then turned toward Arkerya. "Try to send the spell straight down this time," he shouted.

"Devetaten," she said forcefully. This time the crack was wider and traveled into the water causing it to boil momentarily. A dozen fish floated to the top, dead. Even from far away, Arkerya could see the look of disbelief on Solwein's face.

"That was... good. Your direction is still erratic, but once you learn to aim, you'll have it," he yelled.

The lesson continued for another hour before Solwein decided to call it a day. Arkerya was mentally drained in the most literal sense. Aside from the dull ache in her head, she felt as though mouthing certain words, namely incantations, was like trying to swing a heavy weapon.

"That's enough for today. You still have to attend the afternoon physical training. Eat a good lunch and drink lots of water. You should be fit for duty after that," Solwein said.

The two walked back along the city walls and then back into the city. Upon reaching the trade square, Solwein stopped. "I have business with the archbishop today. I will see you tonight. Keep casting that healing spell if you feel up to it," Solwein said.

Arkerya bowed and then headed toward old town. _What a morning._

Solwein was greeted by the usual monk at the grand entryway to the chapel. "Greetings, paladin. Welcome to the Chapel of Light," said the cheery doorman. Solwein nodded and proceeded to the altar. After paying the usual homage at the altar, he called on the altar boy.

"Altar boy, come here for a moment," he said. A young boy came running from one of the side chambers to meet Solwein. "How may I help you, master paladin?" said the polite little boy.

"I seek an audience with Archbishop Benedictus. Where might I find him?" Solwein asked. "The Archbishop is in the basement. Shall I fetch him for you?" the little boy asked.

"No, I will go and see him myself. Thank you," Solwein said, flipping a gold coin to the boy.

The altar boy bowed graciously and returned to what he was doing in the side chamber. Solwein proceeded down the nearby stairs to the basement.

The dimly lit room was plain and dull. Not a single banner, relic or crest decorated the cold, stone walls. Only the bookshelves kept the image of a large cell from entering Solwein's mind.

Benedictus was at a tiny desk in the far corner of the room writing by candlelight on a piece of parchment. Solwein strode over to him.

"Something you need, master Solwein?" Benedictus said without looking up. "I'm here for advice, Archbishop. May I?" Solwein asked courteously.

"Please have a seat. I'll be right with you, young master. Please sit down," said Benedictus, motioning to the chair on the other side of the small desk.

Solwein took his seat and waited for a few moments while the archbishop finished what he was writing. Benedictus set his quill back in the ink bottle and finally looked up at Solwein.

"Now, what can I do for you, Solwein?" Benedictus asked. "I need some help with my apprentice," Solwein said. "Oh? How can a humble priest like myself help a mighty paladin in any way?" Benedictus mused.

Glibness was a large part of the archbishop's personality. Solwein had never cared much for it. Still, Solwein respected his abilities and had taken his sound advice on many occasions.

"She has magical power like I've never seen. As I'm sure you know, most casters with a high concentration of mana in their blood lack control off the get-go. Normally, I could work around this, but this is different," Solwein said.

"How so?" asked the archbishop. "A mage by the name of Jennea Cannon came knocking on my door last night all covered in soot. She explained that upon eating some mana thistle and attempting to cast an enchantment, my apprentice heavily damaged the upper floors of the mage tower in the city. This morning, I took her to the lake to learn to cast holy magic. She nearly killed me without even trying and then boiled the lake with a consecration spell," Solwein explained.

Benedictus cocked an eyebrow and paused. "She blew up the mage tower?" he asked. "Yes," Solwein replied. Benedictus paused again and Solwein could have sworn he heard a faint chuckle being stifled in the back of the archbishops throat.

"I know that you yourself had a very large mana pool of your own from an early age. I did not and consequently had time to build it up and attune myself to the magnitude over time. I never went through the difficult stage of learning to control a great amount of power that I wasn't used to. What did you do to learn control?" Solwein said.

The archbishop rubbed his chin. "It wasn't terribly difficult. But then again, I never blew up any ma-... mage towers," Benedictus said, stifling a much more obvious snicker this time.

"Can you tell me more about her? As you know, one's magical affinity is largely based on subtle, or not so subtle, circumstances that have come to be in the individuals life. Is there anything you can think of that makes her unique?" asked Benedictus.

Solwein couldn't think of anything that didn't make her unique. Solwein went with Arkerya's most obvious characteristic. He leaned forward and whispered in the archbishop's ear. "She was infected, turned and then redeemed," he whispered.

Benedictus pursed his lips and rubbed his chin a little harder. "I knew there was something special about her. She asked me a very interesting question the day the scourge invaded the city. She asked me what drove me to follow the light. I had to put some thought into that," Benedictus mused half to himself.

"I'm willing to bet she has a lot of contempt for Arthas, more so than any of us do. Did she reveal the details of her ordeal to you?" he asked.

"Yes, she did," Solwein replied. "It was quite a gruesome tale." Benedictus thought on this for a moment. "The answer I gave her in the cathedral was that it presented me with an impossible end goal, that end goal of course being to one day reach the light. I have never faced a vexation like undeath, nor has anyone else but her that I am aware of. It is hardly my place to say, but I believe she would respond the best to sparring," said the archbishop.

"Sparring? I would crush her. Magic isn't like a sword. You can't just arbitrarily cast magic at your allies. It's too dangerous," Solwein said.

"But it makes sense doesn't it? What better way for a person who is harboring a great deal of unbridled anger to learn magic than to blow off steam in a fight? I know she's a woman and I know you're a master of magic, but I'm sure you could show enough restraint to make it work. I'll tell you what. I am interested in seeing her in action for myself. I'll offer you my magic to heal any damage that is done while the two of you are going at it. What do you say?"

Solwein didn't like the idea, but what Benedictus said made sense. Arkerya needed to vent. From what she had told him, she needed to let some of that anger out and Solwein knew that Benedictus was right.

"She's feisty, you know. She almost accidentally burned me up this morning," Solwein said.

"I'll take care to keep my distance. I would be glad to attend her training," said Benedictus.

"If you think it will be alright, I'll take your advice," Solwein said. "Good, when do you plan to train with her again?" asked the archbishop.

Arkerya swigged the melon juice from her mug at The Gilded Rose. The sun had set and the city lamps had been lit. A small rain shower had drenched the stone streets, giving the city a certain glistening that Arkerya had come to like.

As she stared out the window, her thoughts dwelled on the day's training. Casting magic was exciting. When she managed her first consecration, she felt more powerful than she could have imagined. The swordplay she had learned didn't compare to the awesome feeling of magic.

After she finished her physical training that day, she had gone back to the commons to practice the healing spell. By the time she was exhausted again, she had managed a fair spell without an incantation. She had considered going outside the city again to practice consecration without reciting the magic word, but it was dusk by that time so she decided to go to the Rose instead.

The door opened and rang the attached bell. In walked Callencia who immediately strode to sit next to Arkerya at the bar. "Melon juice huh? We'll see how long that lasts," Callencia said.

"What do you mean?" Arkerya asked. "Allison, a bourbon if you please," Callencia called to the innkeeper. Arkerya got the point.

"So, I heard a little rumor that you and Solwein stole off to the woods this morning," Callencia said playfully. Arkerya's mouth dropped open. "He was teaching me magic! We didn't 'steal off'," she said, thoroughly abashed.

"I was just kidding. I heard it from Solwein. I came by because I wanted to ask if I could come and watch. Solwein said you actually managed a pretty good consecration. I'd love to watch your progression," Callencia said.

"Oh, well, sure. I suppose that would be fine," Arkerya said. "But seriously, you and Solwein seem to be getting along better than before. I take it you two had a talk?

Arkerya wasn't keen on the idea of revealing what happened the night before. Callencia clearly expected an answer, so she simply nodded. "That's good. I was beginning to worry about you two. He's very fond of you, you know," said Callencia.

"Fond of me?" Arkerya asked. "Aye. He won't say it out loud, but he considers you to be an honorable young woman and he cares for you," she said soulfully.

Arkerya couldn't help letting a crooked smile slip onto her face. She took a big gulp of her melon juice. "I'm glad. I was beginning to think that he didn't want anything to do with me," she said, half-truthfully.

"He's going through a hard time. I don't think it's my place to go into the details, but he's got it rough at the moment," Callencia said.

Arkerya could sympathize. The whole situation was a little bit out of control. Solwein had to be feeling all the politicians breathing down his neck.

_At least he doesn't hate me._ Arkerya had taken his dismissal the night before pretty hard. For once, it wasn't Arthas that had made her cry herself to sleep. She was extremely glad when he came knocking on her door the next morning.

"I can imagine he does have it pretty rough. The king, the mayor and every lord of these lands is probably trying to press their advantage and gain his favor. It won't do them much good though. Solwein doesn't seem like that kind of man," Arkerya said.

"It's not just these lands. The dwarves of Ironforge are also trying to please him. They have a paladin sect as well, though it is not as prominent as the Dawn or the Silver Hand," Callencia said.

"Truly he has a lot on his plate. I am thrilled he has the time to teach me," Arkerya said.

"He's pretty thrilled about it too, you know," Callencia added slyly. "I'm sure. It gets him away from the hustle and bustle of the city and his position. I would seek any avenue of escape too," Arkerya admitted.

"Well there's that. But that's not really what I meant," Callencia said. Arkerya looked over at Callencia who stood up, patted her on the shoulder, and left the bar after downing her bourbon and leaving two silver coins on the counter.

The next eight days were full of magic practice at Mirror Lake. Solwein had taken to sparring with Arkerya under the watch of Archbishop Benedictus. By the end of the ninth day, Solwein actually had to keep on his toes in order to give Arkerya a challenge.

Arkerya had expected to see more of Callencia, but she only showed the second day of practice. When Arkerya inquired about her absence, Callencia smiled and patted her gently on the head.

Over the course of the training, Arkerya had learned to call on divine judgment, cleanse poison and magic from her body and also how to give her Mocking Blade a holy enchantment to make it lighter to the wielder. Solwein was impressed with her progress and treated her to breakfast each morning.

On the ninth afternoon, Arkerya received a scroll with her movement orders on it. She had been selected to march to Andorhal instead of sailing to Light's Hope. This disappointed her and made her uneasy. All this time, she had been assuming she would be with Solwein in her first fight. It hadn't crossed her mind that they might be separated.

Going with her were Novacon, Tia, Kaonus, Ignas, Zhor and Dangiel. Going with Solwein were Peat, Callencia, Drogin, McDonagal, and Natarazono. Arkerya was, however, glad that Tia was going with her. The long march to Andorhal through the mountains would give her a much wanted chance to learn more about her.

Every time Arkerya had tried to talk to Tia, something had interrupted them or Tia casually changed the subject. Arkerya hoped to delve deeper into her past and get to know the mysterious girl.

Night came and sleep ensued. When Arkerya woke on the tenth day, she donned her armor and weapons, slung the pack she had prepared the night before on her back and set out to the rally point next to the deeprun tram to meet with her battalion.

On her way, she stopped to meet Solwein one last time and said a heartfelt goodbye. Solwein explained that goodbye was not forever and that they would see each other again leaving for the harbor.

After much waiting and preparation, she and three legions of Stormwind departed on the tram to Ironforge. Once they had met with the dwarven troops, the combined force moved north into Loch Modan, the Arathi Highlands and then Hilsbrad. Hilsbrad seemed familiar for some reason, though Arkerya couldn't imagine why.

As the feeling of the plague welled in her stomach, just as Solwein had said it would, the Western Plaguelands grew larger and larger over the hills. Before long, the feeling was overpowered by the stench of the dead and the trees became barren. Then, Chillwind Camp came into view. Arkerya's march to war had come to an end.


End file.
